More Than a Heap of Stones
by dnachemlia
Summary: McGee moves out of his apartment. Over the course of a year, the agent learns how to adjust to life in the country, encounters with the locals, and an old house that seemingly has a soul all of its own. AU as of half-way through season 10.
1. Chapter 1 - January

**More Than a Heap of Stones**

NFA White Elephant Exchange (WEE) fic for djmichaels

_Prompt_: How does someone who has lived in an apartment for most of their lives suddenly deal with all of the highs and lows of owning a home? The title was inspired by a quote by Henri Poincare: _an accumulation of facts is no more a science than a heap of stones is a house._

_Rating_: FR-15/T

_Genre_: Drama/Family with a touch of supernatural. AU as of half-way through season 10, but no real spoilers.

_Summary_: McGee moves out of his apartment. Over the course of a year, the agent learns how to adjust to life in the country, encounters with the locals, and an old house that seemingly has a soul all of its own.

_**Disclaimer**_: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

_**He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home.  
**__~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

Chapter 1 – January

Tim stomped his feet to dislodge the snow clinging to his shoes and opened the exterior door to his apartment building. Since it was almost midnight the small lobby was quiet and deserted - a relief to the exhausted agent who had no desire to deal with the scrutiny of his neighbors. Tim was battered, bruised, and more than a little damp, the result of a tumble he had taken on his way home from the Metro station. Tim knew from experience that when it snowed in D.C. traffic was a nightmare and had elected to take the public transport to work that morning. He had started to regret that decision when their current case had kept them occupied well past the normal work day and he was faced with a late-night trip home. He regretted it even more when the walk home had resulted in his current state. He really wished the city did a better job of clearing the sidewalks…

When he finally reached his own apartment he noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out from under the door. Instinct borne from years on the job took over and he crouched down to peer under the door to see if anything else awaited him. Finding nothing else amiss, he then removed a pair of tweezers from his backpack and carefully extracted the envelope. The outside bore his name and apartment number and the upper left corner was printed with the name of a local law firm. Deciding that the envelope was legit, Tim opened his door and stepped inside where he dropped it on the counter.

After he had showered and changed into dry sweats and a t-shirt, he re-examined the envelope before carefully opening it and pulling out the folded piece of paper within. He started to read the letter and groaned when he realized what it meant. His landlady, Mrs. Miller, had finally decided to sell the building and the company that had purchased it had decided to turn the apartments into condominiums. The company was giving the current residents first choice to purchase their apartments/condos, but the asking price caused Tim's eyebrows to rise in disbelief. Sure, he could probably afford it, but it seemed a bit exorbitant. A quick mental calculation told him the mortgage would be about the same as his rent, but the prospect of yearly association fees caused his heart to sink. It looked like he'd be searching for a new place to live in the very near future.

Tim looked around his apartment. He didn't have an emotional attachment to it, no more so than any of the other temporary homes he had lived in over the years, but he hated the idea of packing and moving. At least now he could maybe find a place closer to work and save himself the frustration of commuting the distance he did now.

With a sigh, he set the letter on the kitchen counter and headed for his bedroom. At least he had thirty days to make a final decision - plenty of time to find a new place.

He hoped.

XXX

An early-morning call from Gibbs, summoning McGee to the scene of a crime, set off a chain of events which kept the agent occupied for the next few days. Between the processing of the scene, the searches of the victim's and suspects' records, interviewing witnesses and associates, and running down leads, McGee barely had time to breathe, much less worry about his impending housing decision. Finally, after a breakthrough which led the team to the suspect's hideout and a raid which had resulted in said suspect being in custody, all that was left to do for the case was to finish the reports. The team had earned a weekend off, so Tim had decided to start his search for a new place.

McGee sent his report to the printer and while he was waiting, he pulled up the local classified ads on his computer. He typed in a few key words to narrow his search and started reading. He had a couple of possibilities by the time the case report finished printing and he made note of those on his phone before he went to retrieve the report. Once he had that signed and on Gibbs' desk, he resumed his search. There wasn't much available that was close to the Yard, in his price range, and in a suitable neighborhood, but at least he had something to work with.

Tony and Ziva returned to work on their own reports and since there were still several hours left in the work day, McGee turned his attention to cold cases. He was deep in the middle of a three-year old case when he became aware of someone's presence. He looked up, expecting to see one of his co-workers, but an unfamiliar young man in a courier's uniform was standing in front of his desk.

"Timothy McGee?"

"Yes?"

"Certified letter for you. Please sign here." The courier held out a clipboard and Tim automatically reached for it but paused when the oddness of the situation struck him.

"Who is it from?"

The courier checked the address. "Smith, Jones, Pomeroy and Turner. It's a law firm."

"Why was it sent to my work address?"

"Sorry, no idea. I just deliver the letters."

Tim sighed and took the proffered clipboard before scratching his signature next to his name on the list. The courier handed him the letter and took his clipboard, sending McGee a mock salute before heading back to the elevator.

"Did you get served, Probie?" Tony asked as he strode over to the desk and grabbed the letter from Tim's hand.

Tim snatched it back. "I have no idea."

"Perhaps you should find out," Ziva added as she joined Tony in standing by McGee's desk.

"A little privacy, please?" Tim asked as he rolled his eyes. His teammates retreated to their respective desks and watched as Tim opened the envelope. He started to read the letter and his heart sank.

"What's wrong?"

Tim reached up and rubbed his eyes. "My great-aunt Cassandra – Penny's sister – she passed away a few days ago."

"I'm sorry, man," Tony said with a genuine look of regret on his face.

"Were you close?" Ziva asked, a similar expression crossing her face as well.

"Not as close as I was to Penny, but…she visited a lot when I was growing up, and we kept in touch while I was in college and after I started at NCIS. She moved out west after her husband died and I haven't seen her for a few months." Tim shook his head. "Her memorial service is next week – the 31st. I better fill out a leave slip and -"

"I'll make sure you can be there," Gibbs assured him as he walked up to McGee's desk.

"Thanks, Boss."

"McGee."

"Yes, Boss?"

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Tim nodded, barely managing to keep his expression neutral. "Thanks."

"We are sorry as well, McGee," Ziva added and Tony nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, guys." He started to read the letter again and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"What?"

"She, uh, remembered me in her will. The reading will be at her lawyer's office in D.C., after the service." A flash of guilt crossed his face. "I wish I could have seen her before…"

"It was nice that she thought of you, McGee. I am sure she understood."

Tim folded the letter and put it back in its envelope before slipping it into his coat pocket. He paused for a minute to collect his thoughts and then got back to work, although truthfully his heart wasn't in it. He'd have to call Penny later, and then Sarah. While his sister had not been as close to their great-aunt, she would still need consoling. He'd have to fulfill that role just as he always had while tamping down his own grief.

Cassandra had not been as flamboyant as Penny but she had been a stable influence in his sometimes chaotic childhood. While she, like Penny, had not great love for the military, she understood his desire to have some connection to the Navy. She had never approved of Tim's father's attitude towards his son, but her support of his career choice has meant nearly as much as Penny's, and he had enjoyed their talks and written communication over the years. She had been a good listener, and he would really miss that.

Tim sighed. Another loss. One of the tragedies of growing older, it seemed. He only hoped he wouldn't have to face more of those in the near future, from either family.

XXX

The memorial service was fairly low-key but well attended. Tim's father had not been there, as expected, but Tim had been too busy comforting his grandmother and sister to worry about that. Much. He had been reminded during the service of how many people his great-aunt had touched and he decided that he really couldn't worry about the ones who failed to recognize that.

After the service he found himself, along with Sarah and Penny, in an ostentatious conference room waiting for the lawyer to arrive. When the rotund, slightly pompous man finally graced them with his presence, Tim managed to reign in his annoyance and settled in to listen. After a rather long-winded introduction by the lawyer, the basics of the will were laid out for the three individual beneficiaries. Tim sat in silence, stunned. He had never expected this, and truthfully really wasn't sure how to handle the gift which had been bestowed upon him.

A house.


	2. Chapter 2 - February

**More Than a Heap of Stones  
**  
Chapter 2 – February

Tim stepped off the elevator and let out a soft sigh of relief when he saw that the bullpen was unoccupied. He really wasn't ready to deal with his teammates' questions just yet, especially since he had not quite come to terms with what had happened the day before. He walked to his desk and sat down, briefly closing his eyes before turning his attention to his computer. When he saw the number of unread emails in his inbox, most of which were marked "urgent", he groaned. It never ceased to amaze him how much paperwork could accumulate in just one day.

Tim started working through the emails, attending to the highest priority as quickly and efficiently as he could. He had almost finished the first batch when he noticed a familiar but pleasant smell and looked away from his computer to find a cup of coffee sitting on his desk. He looked up at Gibbs' desk and saw that the lead agent had arrived and was staring at his own computer screen with a mildly annoyed expression, something that was quite normal any time he had to deal with the hated device. Seemingly sensing McGee's scrutiny, he glanced up and met the younger man's gaze. Tim raised his cup in thanks and Gibbs nodded in return before returning his attention to his work.

Tim finished his list of requests just as Tony and Ziva emerged from the elevator, carrying a tray of drinks and a white bakery shop bag. Tim chuckled to himself. At least he wouldn't be wanting for caffeine this morning.

"Good morning, McGee," said Ziva as she set a cup of coffee on his desk. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Ziva. Thanks for the coffee." Tony pulled a Danish from the bag and placed in on a napkin before setting in on Tim's desk next to the coffee. "Thanks, Tony."

"No problem, Probie. Everything go OK yesterday?"

"It was a nice service," Tim replied. "Quiet. Low-key. Pretty much like Aunt Cassandra herself."

"And after?" he asked, earning a jab in the ribs from Ziva. "What was that for?"

"You are too nosy, Tony, always trying to get more information than we are willing to share."

"Am I going to get any work out of any of you today?" snapped Gibbs, which sent two agents back to their desks. The team worked in relative silence for several minutes until Gibbs desk phone rang and they all looked up expectantly.

"Yeah, Gibbs." He grabbed his notepad and scribbled a few words. "Got it. Gear up," he announced as he rose from his chair. "Dead squid at Pax River."

The team grabbed their bags and followed Gibbs to the elevator. Tim could tell that Tony was itching to ask him again about his inheritance, but he still wasn't ready to talk about it, so he ignored the older man's pointed stare. When they reached the garage, Gibbs told Tony and Ziva to take the truck and McGee followed Gibbs to the parking lot to retrieve on of the sedans. Soon they were on the road, headed towards Lexington Park, and Gibbs maintained his usual silence. After a few miles, Tim decided he needed a second opinion on his current dilemma.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?"

"You've, uh, owned a home for a long time. Right?" Gibbs sent him a look that clearly said 'get to the point'. "Right. Ok. I was just wondering…is it worth it? I mean, I know it's a lot of work, maintaining a house, and with our work hours we don't have much time to spend doing the necessary work, but…"

"I make time, McGee."

"Right, of course. I didn't mean to imply… Sorry, Boss."

"This have something to do with what happened yesterday?"

Tim sighed. "Yeah, it does." He thought for a minute, trying to decide the best way to explain it. "Aunt Cassandra was married to an architect, Douglas Fisher, and up until he died they lived in his family home. After he passed away, she moved out west, but she didn't sell the house, and she left that house to me in her will. She said I needed a real home, not base housing or an apartment."

"Where is the house?"

"Fisher's Grove, Virginia. It's a little town about 50 miles southwest of D.C. She left in 1993, and the house has been unoccupied ever since."

"Sounds like it's going to need some work."

"Probably. I'm going down to see the place this weekend, provided we don't have a case." Tim smiled weakly. "All this, the timing…it's odd."

"Why?"

"My apartment building is being sold. If this hadn't come along…"

"You'd be looking for a new place anyway. So what's the problem?"

"It's a hell of a commute, Boss."

"And with city traffic you deal with now, it probably wouldn't take you all that much longer."

"Probably not, but if there's a case…"

"If it's at Quantico or Norfolk, you can just meet us there. Fifty miles isn't that far, McGee."

"Yeah, I know, but…"

"But what?"

"I've never dealt with anything like this, Boss. I get the feeling it's a disaster waiting to happen."

"You won't know until you try, Tim. Sure there are a few things you need to know, but once you've got those down, there's no reason you can't dealt with everything involved. And if you need advice, my door's always open. You know that."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Let me know when you're going down to see the place. I can check it over, make sure there aren't too many surprises."

Tim felt a bit of the tension in his shoulders ease. He had wanted to ask Gibbs if he could help, but hadn't yet worked up the courage to do so.

"Thanks, Boss. I'll do that."

"Now do me a favor."

"Sure, Boss."

"Tell DiNozzo. He'll be distracted and damn annoying until he knows what's going on."

Tim chuckled. "I will."

XXX

The dead sailor appeared to be the result of a combination of too much alcohol and testosterone, spurred on by too little common sense, and it didn't take long to find the other participants in the bar fight that had turned deadly. The two men, members of the same crew as the deceased, quickly caved under Gibbs questioning and were soon on their way to NCIS to give a full statement. The team completed all documentation of the scene and evidence collection in near record time for such a scene and soon they too were on their way back to the Navy Yard.

Tim was back at his desk, typing his report, when Tony returned from Interrogation with a satisfied grin on his face.

"All done?"

"Like shooting ducks in a barrel. The argument was over a poker game, if you can believe it. Seaman Archer didn't take kindly to Petty Officer Drake relieving him of six month's worth of savings, and Seaman Erwin decided to join the fray. Both claimed it was an accident."

"What a waste," McGee muttered and returned his attention to his computer.

Tony sat down at his desk and started to type up is own report. After several minutes had passed, Tim noticed that the sound of Tony hitting the keys had stopped. Knowing what was coming, he turned to the senior agent.

"What?"

"You've been pretty quiet today, McGee, even for you. Something on your mind?"

Tim sighed. "You could say that."

"And?"

"I'm still just trying to wrap my mind around it."

"Around what? Does this have anything to do with…?"

"A house."

Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A what?"

"You wanted to know what my great aunt left me in her will. It's a house."

Tony let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Seriously?" Tim nodded. "Where?"

"Virginia. About 50 miles south-southwest of D.C."

Tony snorted. "At least you'll be closer to the crime scenes at Quantico and Norfolk." Tim chuckled. "What?"

"That's what Gibbs said."

"So wait, you told…of course you did. But really, a house? I can't really picture you doing the whole home-owner thing, McGee. What was your aunt thinking?"

"She said I needed a place of my own. Otherwise, I couldn't really tell you. Aunt Cassandra was never very good at explaining her though processes."

"What about your apartment? Are you going to have to break your lease? When will you find time to move?"

Remembering Gibbs words, Tim grinned. "I guess I'll make time. And no, I won't have to break my lease. My building's been sold, so I would have had to move anyway, or else buy my apartment. They're asking a bit much for it anyway."

"Huh. Good timing for all this, then." McGee shot him a dirty look. "Sorry."

Tim started typing again as Tony lapsed back into silence. His peace was short-lived.

"What's this house like?"

"I don't know, Tony. I haven't seen it yet. We never visited when I was a kid, and she hadn't lived there for twenty years. All I know is that it's old and out in the country."

"That really doesn't sound like your type of place, McGee."

"I guess that's going to have to change, then. I'll know more after this weekend. I'm supposed to go meet with the lawyer to check the house out, see what needs to be fixed, and sign the paperwork."

"Need company?"

Tim looked up at Tony, surprise crossing his features. "Why? Why would you want to go with me?"

"Gotta check out the new McDigs."

Tim gave an exasperated sigh. "Really, Tony, if I was going to bring someone with me, I'd take Gibbs. He'd be better for telling me what the place needs."

"What time are you meeting the lawyer, McGee?" Gibbs asked as he strode towards his desk, coffee in hand.

"Uh, 1030, Boss. As long as we don't have a case, of course."

"Pick me up at 0915. That will give you plenty of time to get down there."  
"Sure, Boss…thanks."

Gibbs just nodded, a knowing smirk on his face, and started in on his own report. Tony looked as if he was ready to protest, but a quick glance from Gibbs prompted the man to return to his work. Ziva arrived a few minutes later and they continued working in silence, although Tim found it hard to concentrate. He was surprised to discover he was actually starting to look forward to the weekend meeting.

XXX

Tim's luck held and they only had to deal with cold cases for the rest of the week, leaving the weekend free. Tony hadn't said anything more, but Ziva had cornered Tim after work that evening and expressed concern over how he was handling everything. Tim understood that this was her way of finding out what was going on and had filled her in. She had simply smiled, told him he would be fine, and wished him luck after she told him that if he needed any help with anything, she would be happy to assist.

Tim decided the next morning that he'd better tell the rest of his closest co-workers before scuttlebutt took over. Ducky had been supportive, telling him stories about several of the homes in which he had lived before finally moving into his current residence. Abby had been way too excited, insisting that they would have to have a house-warming party as soon as Tim was moved in. He told her that might be awhile, but when he left the lab she had already started planning. He was almost afraid to contemplate what constituted a "house-warming" in Abby's mind.

The rest of the week had been uneventful, and by Saturday morning Tim was truly ready to see what he would be dealing with as a result of his great-aunt's generosity, although the anxiety concerning his potential new residence remained. Giving himself plenty of time to get to Gibbs' place, he gathered up the paperwork the lawyer had sent and headed out, only to find Tony waiting by his car when he reached the parking lot.

"What are you doing here, Tony?"

"Moral support?"

Tim huffed. "Fine. Let's go."

Tony grinned. "You're warming up to me, Probie."

During the ride, Tony regaled Tim with the plot of every movie related to home ownership, from _The Money Pit_ to _The Amityville Horror_. Tim pretended to ignore him, but he had to admit that the running commentary was amusing, and that it had helped him relax, just a little.

Once Gibbs was in the passenger seat and Tony had been banished to the back seat, Tim set his GPS to find the shortest route to Fisher's Grove. The lawyer, Charles Pomeroy, had asked Tim to meet him at the town post-office and would take Tim out to the house from there.

They arrived shortly before the appointed meeting time and stepped out of Tim's car to stretch. They trip had not been as bad as he expected, so that was a plus, but it still had taken longer than his current commute.

Tony scanned the area around the post office and laughed. "You'll definitely be out of your element here, McGee. No take-out restaurants or laser-tag in sight."

"I'll adjust," Tim muttered, although privately he had to admit that Tony was right. There were only a few businesses in the "downtown" area, and none looked terribly prosperous. He suspected he'd still be doing his admittedly limited shopping in D.C.

At the appointed time, a black Audi SUV pulled into the parking lot next to Tim's car and a short, rotund, balding man climbed out.

"Timothy McGee?" he asked in what Tim recognized as an "old-money Virginia" accent. He stepped forward and extended his hand. "Mr. Pomeroy. Nice to meet you." He followed the man's gaze as the lawyer studied Gibbs and Tony with a rather unpleasant expression on his face. "Jethro Gibbs, my boss, and Tony DiNozzo."

"A pleasure," Pomeroy replied, although his tone said otherwise. "Perhaps you should just follow me out to the house, Timothy."

Tim just nodded and climbed back into his car with Gibbs and Tony quickly following suit. Pomeroy returned to his own vehicle and soon they were back on the road, headed out of town.

"Think I'm finally starting to understand Rule #13, Boss," Tony quipped, and Gibbs chuckled softly. "What's that guy got against us, anyway?"

"I suspect our collars are a little too blue for him, DiNozzo. Or maybe our blood isn't blue enough."

Tim had to chuckle himself at Tony's offended expression. "Don't worry about it, Tony. I doubt he'd think much of me if I didn't have a connection to this place."

"So what do you know about this place, McGee?"

"About the town, not much."

"What about the house? You've been avoiding that topic for the whole trip."

"I don't know much more about it, other than what Pomeroy sent me. It was built by Augustus Fisher in 1793—"

"Wait, _17_93? You'll be living in a 200-year-old house?"

"Yes. It's been in the family ever since, until Cassandra's husband, Douglas, died in 1992. Since there are no more living members of the Fisher family, the house went to my great-aunt…and she left it to me."

"You said it hasn't been lived in for twenty years."

"Right, Boss. Apparently there's been someone looking after the place since Cassandra left, but…I suspect it is going to need some work. Guess we'll find out."

Finally the vehicle they were following turned off the main road onto a packed gravel road. Tim soon realized the road was actually the driveway, with woods on the left side and open fields on the right. After about 500 yards the drive curved around to the left, and they got their first look at the house. It was a two-story structure with faded white clapboard siding and black-shuttered windows, five across the top story and two on either side of the door on the lower level. Four thin brick chimneys were visible, two on either side of the house, and there was a small covered porch in front of the front door. Two large and obviously old trees flanked the house, and a grove of smaller, gnarled trees stood about two hundred yards to the right of the house, in front of a large, weathered barn. To the left of the house was a garage, with a covered walkway connecting the building to the main house.

"Wow," Tony muttered as he leaned over the front seat to get a better look. "That's… kinda creepy, actually." Gibbs reached back and slapped the back of his head. "Thanks, Boss."

"A lot of space," Gibbs remarked. "It'll take some getting used to."

"Yeah," Tim managed to reply. "It's a bit bigger than I expected."

"I don't think it qualifies as a mansion, though. Or even a McMansion."

"It's just a farmhouse, DiNozzo. Nothing fancy, at least not on the outside."

"Right. What do you think, McGee?"

"I think it's going to be a lot of work."

Gibbs clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to home ownership, Tim."


	3. Chapter 3 - March

**More Than a Heap of Stones**

Chapter 3- March

_It looks like it's going to be a lot of work…_

Tim chuckled ruefully at the memory as he reflected on how massive an understatement that had been. He had spent every available moment over the past few weeks working on getting the house ready so he could move in. This weekend project would bring him one step closer to reaching that goal, but it was also the biggest project he had faced so far: painting the interior of the house.

The house itself was actually larger than it had first appeared, as there was an addition to the back that had not been immediately visible. The lawyer, Pomeroy, had informed him that it had been added much later, and had replaced the original, smaller kitchen and included a bathroom and laundry room. The kitchen opened to the central hallway of the house as well as the formal dining room on the right, and the bathroom opened to the guest bedroom on the opposite side. The remaining two lower level rooms consisted of a parlor-slash-library on the same side as the dining room, and a formal living room on the other side of the house. The four original rooms were not large, measuring fourteen by sixteen feet, but the high ceilings made them seem much bigger.

The central hall staircase went straight up to the second floor, which had a master bedroom and bath on the left, and a second bathroom with two more bedrooms on the right. All of the rooms had fireplaces, which caused Tim to worry about how he was going to have to heat the house in the winter but Pomeroy assured him that the house had central electric heating, another addition made during the "modernization" of the house. This update, however, had not included central air conditioning which made Tim grateful for the ceiling fans that had been added to almost every room.

"_The shade trees provide better cooling than any modern conversion," _Pomeroy had remarked, and Tim had gotten the impression that the lawyer did not think much of the changes that had been made for comfort's sake.

After being assured that the house did in fact have more important modern improvements, such as phone and cable (and presumably internet), Tim had relaxed a little, but the condition of the interior had given him pause. All of the rooms needed a good cleaning and re-painting, as well as some minor repair. Tim had started to compile a list of what he needed to do, and had soon realized it would take a while before he could move in, given his limited time to work on it.

"_Maybe this isn't such a good idea,"_ Tim had muttered, earning a light head slap from Gibbs.

"_You'll have help when you need it, McGee. All you have to do is ask."_

But he hadn't needed to ask. Gibbs had checked over the foundation, wiring, plumbing and appliances, noted what needed to be fixed—thankfully, nothing major-and the next day they had off, he had offered to make some of the more significant repairs. While Gibbs replaced fuses and fixed potential leaks, Tim worked on removing the peeling paint, patching holes, and washing the walls and baseboards. Tony had tagged along once again to help, and had been surprisingly efficient in getting the kitchen ready to paint and for use.

"_This is going to be great, Tim. Of course, since you have a decent-sized kitchen, you're going to have to learn how to cook."_

"_What makes you think I don't know how to cook?"_

"_You eat take-out every night, McGee. What am I supposed to think? Pouring a bowl of Dinosaur cereal doesn't really count."_

"_You do realize that was Sarah's cereal, right?"_

Tim had endured Tony's teasing as he made a mental note to ask for Ziva's advice and she had proved helpful in selecting what he would need to equip his kitchen. She had also offered to give him cooking lessons, whenever he was ready, which he had politely declined, at least for the time being. He claimed that he wanted to give it a try on his own at first. In reality, the thought of Ziva with ready access to a large number of knives made him a bit nervous.

When he told her about the house, Abby had been excited by the prospect of helping Tim with decorating and had given him surprisingly good advice on how to start. She had suggested checking online for pictures of other houses from the same time frame and using period-appropriate colors. When he expressed surprise that she hadn't recommended Goth-inspired decor, she had given him a playful smack on the arm and informed him that the house wasn't gothic style so the colors didn't need to be, either.

After discussing her idea with Ducky and getting a few more pointers, he had searched for descriptions of the original look of the house, as well as similar houses in the area. He was surprised to discover websites dedicated to historic interior design, and even more surprised that a familiar paint company offered a selection of colors suitable to the time period of the original construction. He had sought and received advice from Penny and the local historical society before finally deciding on what to use.

Tim had received his first dose of 'sticker shock' after ordering all of the necessary paints and painting supplies, but consoled himself with the idea that he likely wouldn't have to do this again for a long time. The problem of actually _completing_ the painting had still loomed until he mentioned his worries to Abby. She had, with typical Abby style, convinced the rest of the team to help Tim with the painting and had bribed them with an official house-warming party once all of the work was complete, unfortunately without Tim knowing about it ahead of time. He had finally agreed to the celebration, hoping he could put it off as long as possible, but decided he would pay them back in other ways as soon as he could.

Finally the entire team had a weekend when they were not on call and the "McPainting Project", as Tony called it, was scheduled. Tim headed down to the house Friday night to make sure everything thing was ready for the weekend. After making sure the woodwork was properly taped, drop cloths were in place, the painting equipment and step-ladders (which he had found in the barn, still in reasonable condition) were distributed among the rooms, and the bathrooms and kitchen were ready for use by his guests, he inflated the air-mattress he had brought and collapsed upon it, asleep before his head hit the pillow. His cell-phone alarm woke him far too early after such a late night and he had stumbled to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee with the new large-capacity coffee maker he had purchased for the occasion.

Tim made one last check of the supplies and, after pouring himself a cup of coffee, he poured the rest into a thermos, started another pot, and carried his cup out to the front porch to wait for his team to arrive.

Spring was less than a week away, but the air still held a bit of a chill and Tim was glad for the warmth of his morning brew. He sat and enjoyed the silence, so different from the other places he had lived, and thought about how much of an adjustment his new accommodations would be. Having made several trips to the house, the commute no longer bothered him, but the isolation was something to which he would have to become accustomed. The size of his house, including the land and outbuildings, was still a bit overwhelming, and the job list kept growing as he explored the property. He didn't want to have to rely on his team for help more than was absolutely necessary, so he knew he would have to start building contacts in the area. The prospect of talking to the locals made him somewhat apprehensive. He was an outsider, and he worried that some would not take kindly to his moving in to a place to which he had no direct family connection. He only hoped they would be accepting despite his lack of local roots. Tim grimaced and shook his head, wondering if his perception of the locals had anything to do with the lawyer's attitude towards Gibbs and Tony at their first meeting.

The sound of an engine pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see a car heading up the driveway towards the house. He soon recognized it as Jimmy's. The car stopped halfway along the loop the driveway made in front of the house and three people climbed out, dressed in faded blue coveralls.

"Hey Jimmy, Breena. Hi Ducky."

"Wow," Jimmy exclaimed softly as he looked up at the house. "This is totally not what I was expecting."

"Yeah, me either," Tim replied with a laugh as he stood to greet the first arrivals. "Thanks for agreeing to help."

"Well, you know Abby. Nobody can say no to her." He caught the glare his wife sent him and stammered an apology. She smirked in return.

"So I've heard. How are you, Tim?" Breena asked as she retrieved a box from the back seat.

"Fine. I'm good. How was the drive?"

"Well, we didn't get lost, for once," Ducky commented drolly and Breena giggled, drawing an annoyed glance from Jimmy. Soon his annoyance vanished and he was grinning goofily. "I had good directions. Thanks, McGee."

"No problem. There's coffee ready in the kitchen. Come on in." Tim opened the front door and led the trio into the house.

"Looks like we're going to have our work cut out for us…sorry."

"Yeah, you will. I really can't thank you guys enough for volunteering, whether it was Abby's influence or not."

"I must say I'm looking forward to it. It will be a refreshing break in our normal routine, and the setting it quite lovely. How much land is there with the house, Timothy?"

"Twenty acres, and ten of those are woods. The property actually includes almost 600 acres of farmland but that's leased to one of the locals. That agreement didn't change when my great-aunt wrote her will."

"Good thing. I can't really see you as a farmer, McGee."

"Me either, Jimmy. The rent goes to pay property taxes and the guy who has been looking after the place since Aunt Cassandra left. I haven't met him, yet."

They reached the kitchen and Tim pulled three mugs out of the cupboard. He had purchased two sets when he bought the coffee maker, figuring it would be good to have extra anyway. He grabbed a box of sugar packets and then went to the refrigerator to retrieve the carton of creamer. "Sorry I don't have any tea, Ducky, but—"

"Don't worry about it, Timothy. I brought my own supply."

"We brought donuts," Jimmy remarked as Breena set the box on the counter in the center of the kitchen. "No sprinkles, though."

Tim chuckled. "Thanks."

After Jimmy and Breena had prepared their drinks, Tim poured himself another cup and watched as the others examined the room.

"Is that a real cooking hearth?"

"Yes. The fireplace works, as far as I know." One weekend day had been taken over by a visit from the chimney sweep, which had arrived with a van full of long brushes and wearing a genuine top-hat. He had stated that he drew the line at dancing on the rooftops, much to Tim's amusement. "All of the fireplaces should be in working order."

"How many does the house have?"

"Including this one, nine. The only room that doesn't have one is the second upstairs bathroom."

"Guess you're going to be chopping a lot of wood, then."

"I doubt I'll be using them, Jimmy."

"You say that now, Timothy, but nothing beats the ambiance of a fire crackling in the hearth. At least you have the option of enjoying that here."

Tim nodded, and before Ducky could expand on the virtues of wood-fired heating, a loud knock sounded at the front door. The group headed back down the hall, only to be greeted by the sound of Tony's voice.

"Hurry up, McHomeowner, this is getting heavy."

Tim opened the door to find Tony and Gibbs holding what looked like a strange metal ladder.

"What's that?"

"Scaffolding. For painting the stairwell."

"Oh. Thanks, Boss." Tim had been worried about painting that part of the house, and was glad that Gibbs had solved the problem. "Where did you get it?"

"Somebody owed me a favor." Gibbs and Tony finished leaning the scaffolding against the wall before Tony straightened up and theatrically sniffed the air.

"Coffee?"

"In the kitchen. There's a box of donuts on the counter."

Tony grinned and headed down the hallway, followed by Gibbs, Jimmy and Breena. Ducky had wandered into the parlor and was examining the bookcases built into the walls.

"This will be quite a challenge to paint, Timothy. I'd be happy to volunteer."

"Thanks, Ducky. I figured I'd wait until everyone was here and let people pick what they want to work on." Another loud knock prompted Tim to head for the front door again.

"Timmy! This place is so cool! And creepy," Abby exalted with a rather wicked grin on her face as she and Ziva stepped into the house. "Have you seen any ghosts yet?"

Tim sighed. "Abby, I thought we already established that there are no such things as ghosts."

"Come on, McGee. With a house this old, there has to be something."

"Bats. In the attic, or so I've been told. And spiders in the basement."

"Ugh. I hope you were not planning on painting up those rooms, too."

"Don't worry, Ziva. There's plenty to do with the rest of the house."

"What colors are you going to use?"

"Greens, blues, greys and browns, mostly. That's pretty much what was used here before." He went on to explain that, based on what he had found, rooms in the late 18th century were normally painted with darker colors and white trim, or darker colors on the trim and lower half of the wall with a lighter shade above the chair rail. He had decided to go with the latter, since he suspected the white trim would be harder to keep clean.

Once they were all in the kitchen, he explained what colors would go where, and his team decided which rooms they each wanted to paint. Gibbs volunteered to do the hallway and stairs and Ziva said she would join him. Jimmy and Breena decided on the dining room, while Abby agreed to help Ducky in the parlor. That left Tony to work with Tim on the living room and the guest bedroom. They all decided to do the ceilings first, which would be white in all of the rooms except the parlor, which would have a ceiling a few shades darker than the walls. The trim had already been taped in all of the rooms, so the walls would be painted next. They would finish up with the trim the next day.

"Sounds like a plan." Tony remarked as they all went to their selected rooms. He picked up one of the paint cans and read the label. "'Bone Black'? You sure you're not going Goth here, Tim?"

"It's a medium grey. Trust me, Tony, it will look fine."

"Grey? In the living room?" Tim sent him a look and Tony shook his head. "Whatever, McGloomy. Guess we better get started.

They worked in relative silence and the ceilings were complete surprisingly quickly, with Tony working on the edges and around the ceiling fan while Tim painted the middle with a long handled roller. After both ceiling was finished, the started on the top half of the living room walls. Tim worked on painting the corners and above and below the trim, while Tony painted the walls. Tim was glad to see that the paint seemed to be covering in one coat. By lunch time they had finished the top half of the living room and three half-walls of the guest bedroom. Tony had commented that he liked the light green better than the grey, and at least Tim was getting some color in the place.

"You know," Tony began as they were taking a break, "I would have expected you to go for all white. You know, plain, simple."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Tony shot him a strange look and Tim grinned, which caused the older man to chuckle. "Whatever floats your boat, McGee."

The rest of the team soon joined them for lunch, and while they were fixing sandwiches, Tim went to check out the other rooms. He was impressed with everyone's progress, and was surprised at how well the colors actually looked on the walls. He had been admittedly uncertain about his choices, since he'd never done anything like this before, and was quite happy with how it was turning out so far.

"What's next?" Tony asked when Tim returned.

"There's still the guest bathroom, laundry room, and all the rooms upstairs."

"What about the kitchen?"

"I think I can get that by myself next weekend. I didn't want to be painting it while we were using it this weekend."

"When do you expect to be moved in?" Gibbs asked.

"Probably not until next month at the earliest. I guess it depends on what happens at work."

"At least you don't have much furniture to move, McGee. This place is going to be kind of empty, though."

"The furniture for the house is in storage. The oldest antiques and heirlooms were donated to the local museum, but there's still plenty left. It won't be quite that empty."

Tony chuckled. "How is all of your computer stuff going to fit in this place, McGee? It's going to look very _out_ of place."

"I plan on using the smallest room upstairs for my computer stuff. My books and typewriter will go in the parlor. I'll make it work."

"I am sure you will, McGee."

"Thanks, Ziva."

"If everything is going to be painted this weekend, _we_ better get back to work," commented Gibbs, and soon everyone returned to their tasks. McGee made sure the windows were opened so the rooms would air out enough to sleep in that night, thankful that someone had left the screens in and that the weather had warmed up enough to allow the windows to remain open.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and surprisingly all of the rooms received their first coat of paint. By nightfall everyone was tired and hungry, so Tim called in an order the local pizza place and left to pick up the food while the rest of the group got cleaned up and brought in their sleeping bags and air mattresses. Abby wanted everyone to sleep in the same room, like a big slumber party, but was outvoted.

When Tim returned with the pizza everyone gathered in the kitchen to eat. The pizza was surprisingly good and Tony quipped that maybe McGee could survive living in the area, after all. Finally, full of pizza and beer, and mindful of the full day they had ahead of them tomorrow, the team retired to the rooms they had selected and settled in for the night.

The next morning, Tim was awakened by the smell of strong coffee and smiled. It figured that Gibbs would be up before everyone else. One by one, the group gathered in the kitchen for a breakfast of leftover donuts and store-bought muffins before starting on the second stage of the project. Other than Abby, who seemed slightly subdued, the team returned to their work with the same vigor as the previous day, and by the end of the day the job was finished. One everything had been cleaned up and put away, the team walked through the rooms to admire the new look of the house.

The lower half of the hallway had been painted a medium blue-green, offset by a much lighter shade of the same color. The living room's grey walls were accented by charcoal trim—that even Tony admitted looked nice-and the guest room bore a darker shade of the green on the trim than had been used on the upper half of the walls. The dining room had a rich dark rust color on the bottom half of the walls and trim, with a sandstone color on the top half. The bookshelves and trim in the parlor had been painted dark brown, almost black, while the walls were painted a medium reddish brown. The guest bathroom and the laundry room were both very light green with contrasting dark green trim to match the color scheme of the tile already in place, and the upstairs bathrooms followed the same pattern, with blue instead of green as the base. The master bedroom had been painted a very light slate blue, with dark slate-blue trim. The remaining two bedrooms had both been painted off-white, with complimentary dark brown trim.

"This looks great, guys. Thank you so much for your help."

"Just remember you owe us, Probie. You better throw one hell of a housewarming party."

"I'll see what I can do."

After taking one last look through the house, the team gathered their belongings and left. Ziva had decided to ride back with Tony and Gibbs, which left Abby as the last one to leave. Tim noticed that she seemed hesitant to do so.

"You OK, Abbs?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you…staying here tonight. By yourself?"

"No, I'm going to head back to my apartment. Why?"

"Just wondering." She remained silent for a few moments before turning to him. "I…never mind. Have a safe trip home, McGee."

"Abby, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. It's just…nothing. I'm really happy for you, Timmy, but…"

"But what?"

"You'll be all alone down here."

Tim managed a smile. "You can come visit whenever you want, Abbs."

A strange look crossed her face but before Tim could say anything, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Be careful Timmy. I'll see you at work tomorrow, OK?"

"Sure, Abby."

She turned and headed towards her car, giving him a little wave before getting in a driving away. Tim stood and puzzled over her behavior for a few moments before shaking his head. Despite everything they had been through, Abby would always be a bit of a mystery to him. It was just something he accepted.

Tim made one final check of the house before locking up and heading back to the city. As he thought back over the events of the weekend, he felt a strange sense of accomplishment. He was making this house his own. It was a good feeling.

He just hoped that feeling would continue.

* * *

A/N: Benjamin Moore Paints Williamsburg Collection was used as inspiration for the house colors.


	4. Chapter 4 - AprilMay

More Than a Heap of Stones

Chapter 4 – April/May

Over the next couple of weeks Tim managed to finish painting the kitchen and polished the hardwood floors in the rest of the house in preparation for the arrival of the stored furniture. He also managed to finish packing most of his belongings in his apartment and had contacted a moving company to bring his stuff to the house in Virginia, not wanting to impose on his team again. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, the MCRT caught a big case the day before the movers were scheduled, and Tim made a desperate call to Penny, asking if she could supervise the move. She was happy to help, and assured him that she would have the house arranged as it had been (or as close as possible) while the family was still living there.

Relieved that he had at least one less thing to worry about, Tim concentrated on the case, which took up all of his time for the next couple of days. Finally, after working for nearly 48 hours straight, the team was given a break. Tim made a quick trip to make sure his apartment was cleared out and clean before turning in his key, then headed back to work to grab a couple hours of sleep on Abby's futon. Another day of work and they team had cracked the case, much to Tim's relief. He was in desperate need of sleep in his own bed, and was anxious to see what awaited him at his new home. After declining to go out to dinner with the team, he called Penny to let her know he was on his way.

The trip seemed to take longer than he remembered but when he finally made it he was greeted with the sight of Penny waiting for him at the front door.

"Sweetheart, you look exhausted. Are you sure you don't need me to stay? I can always re-schedule my meeting, and—"

"I'm fine, Penny, really. Thank you for handling all of this for me. I can imagine it was…difficult."

"As you would say, I'm fine. Cassandra would have been so happy to see you here, you know. She always said you needed a real home."

"Thanks."

"Do you need me to fix you something for dinner? I took the liberty of doing some shopping. I had to go quite a way to find a store that had everything I needed to make that tofu casserole you like so well." Tim barely managed to hide his grimace of disgust. "But I can whip it up for you, no problem at all."

"That's OK, I'm not that hungry. Just need a shower and sleep."

"Oh, of course. You tell that Gibbs he works you too hard, you know."

"It's fine. All part of the job."

She patted his cheek and opened the door, beckoning him into the house. "At least let me show you what's been done so far." She led him into the parlor, where the bare floor had been covered by a large braided rug, upon which sat two sets of wing-backed chairs, each pair clustered around a small table with a dark-shaded lamp on top, and his writing desk and typewriter were set up in front of one of the windows. Tim could see the shelves were mostly full of books, although there were still quite a few boxes waiting to be unpacked. From the parlor he followed her into the dining room, where a large table with seating for eight dominated the center of the room. A large sideboard covered the wall closest to the parlor and a smaller buffet cabinet stood next to the kitchen door.

"It looks nice, Penny. Thank you."

She looked up at him and smiled. "You're too tired to concentrate on this right now. Go on up to you room. Your bed is set up and made."

Tim managed a smile and headed up the stairs to the master bedroom. It was much larger than the bedroom in his apartment, and he was surprised to see that his furniture had been joined by some of the original furniture. He decided he would worry about that later and headed for the bathroom.

After a wonderfully hot shower (he silently thanked Gibbs for adjusting the water heater and pressure) he dressed in sweats and a t-shirt before returning to the lower level. Penny had fixed him a sandwich and he thanked her again as he sat on one of the stools next the counter.

"I'll be back to check on you this weekend, provided that fascist Gibbs doesn't have you chained to your desk again," she said with a wink and Tim smiled weakly.

"Don't worry, after this case is wrapped up, Vance is making sure we get the weekend off."

"Good. We can go shopping."

"Shopping? For what?"

"Curtains, dear. Your windows are a little bare."

Tim groaned. He hadn't even thought of that. Penny smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Don't worry, I've already measured them. Get some rest, you look like you need it. I'll let myself out."

He gave her a hug. "Drive carefully."

She disappeared down the hall and soon he heard the front door open and shut. After finishing his sandwich and washing the plate in the sink, he checked the doors to make sure they were locked, hung his keys on the rack by the side door, and headed back up the stairs to his room. He set his alarm, climbed into bed and turned off the light. The darkness surprised him. Even without curtains, almost no light was visible outside the windows. It was very different from his apartment in the city.

After tossing and turning a bit, he finally started to drift off to sleep. The silence of the house hadn't bothered him before on the few nights he had spent there, but now it almost seemed unnatural. Something else to get used to, he mused, and settled down for a much deserved rest.

_*creeeaaakkk*_

Tim sat bolt upright and looked around for the source of the sound but in the darkness he couldn't see anything that might have caused it. He turned on the light and held his breath as he waited to see if he would hear it again.

_*creeeaaakkk*_

He turned towards the front window, the apparent origin of the sound and saw that a branch from the tree was moving in the wind and rubbing up against the screen. He let out a soft huff of laughter. _One more thing to add to the list: tree-trimming._

He climbed back into bed, turned off the light and it wasn't long before he finally succumbed to the pull of sleep.

XXX

As soon as the doors opened, Tim dashed from the elevator to his desk, dropping into his seat with barely a minute to spare. He let his backpack fall to the floor and opened his email, hoping to get something done before Gibbs noticed his tardiness.

"Bad traffic?" asked Tony as he noted Tim's harried appearance.

"No, actually, it wasn't too bad," Tim replied as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

"So…what was it then? Overslept?"

"I…misplaced my keys."

"Seriously?"

"I thought I hung them up on the key rack by the door, but this morning they weren't there. I finally found them in the laundry room sink. I must have been more tired than I thought last night."

"Well, at least we get the weekend to recover. Or is this the weekend you were moving into your house?"

"No, that was this past weekend. I had to ask Penny to supervise. Luckily both the stuff in my apartment and the stuff from storage got moved it. I still need to check on everything, but it looks like most of furniture is in place. I still have a lot of unpacking to do."

"So when will you be having your official housewarming party?"

"With my luck, probably July."

"That will work. You can make it a cookout."

"Fine, except I don't even have a grill."

"Come on, McGee, every respectable home-owning man has a grill."

"I'll add it to the list," Tim muttered and returned his attention to his work.

"It'll be great. We can get Gibbs to do the steaks, and hey, you have a pond, right? We can go swimming."

"I don't think I'd want to swim in that pond, Tony." The feature in question covered nearly five acres, but Tim suspected it was full of things he'd rather not swim around, like snapping turtles.

"Well then we can go fishing."

Tim laughed softly and shook his head. "It's a long way off, Tony. I've got a lot of work to do, both inside and out."

"OK, fine. Just let me know when you're ready to go grill-shopping."

"Not this weekend. Penny already has plans for me. Apparently the house needs curtains."

"Oh man, McGee, it's starting already."

"How about you start work, DiNozzo?"

"Yes, Boss."

"As soon as the reports for the Albright case are done, Vance wants us on cold cases for the rest of the week. Says we need a break."

"Can't argue with that, Boss."

"Never stopped you before, DiNozzo."

The three men were soon joined by Ziva, who had been getting the final report from Abby, and they worked in relative silence for the next few hours. Taking a break from a review of a seven-year old missing dependent case that had been handled by another team, Tim started making an actual list of potential projects for the weekend. Disheartened by the length of the preliminary list, Tim sighed and went back to his cold case. He wondered if he'd ever seen the end of that list, or if it would keep growing. He suspected the latter was true.

At 1800, Gibbs dismissed them for the day and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to stop and get groceries—food he'd actually want to eat rather than what Penny deemed appropriate for him—and he had a lot of unpacking to do. He was quite ready to head home, but his teammates had other plans.

"Would you like to join us for a drink, McGee? To celebrate your move?"

"Sorry, Ziva, not tonight. Lots to do at home."

"You better get used to that, McGee."

"Yeah, I know."

XXX

Friday evening finally arrived and once again Tim declined the offer to go out with his teammates for drinks. He was thankful for the opportunity to get home while it was still light out and warm enough to get a good look at the outside of the house to see what he would need to do over the next couple of days. He had noticed that morning that the grass was looking a little unkempt, so he had added that chore to his ever-growing list. When he had searched the barn for the ladders he had seen an old but obviously well-kept riding lawn-mower. He figured he'd put it to use that weekend.

When Tim arrived home he noticed that the grass had already been taken care of. _Must have been the caretaker. I guess I need to talk to him._ He found the man's address in the paperwork the lawyer had given him but no phone number was listed. Tim decided he had better pay the man a visit.

After changing into an older pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, Tim drove over to the address listed. The house turned out to be a small cabin set back in the woods, and when Tim arrived at the end of the driveway he could not find any sign that the resident was home. As soon as he stepped out of his car, his ears were assaulted with a cacophony of shrieks emanating from the woods. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find a short, wizened man peering at him from the doorway of the cabin.

"Help ye?"

"Rufus Bridgier?" he yelled over the noise and the man nodded warily. "I'm Tim McGee, Cassandra Fisher's great-nephew. I—"

"Moved into her house. What can I do for ye?"

"I…I was wondering about…" He winced as the noise continued. "What_ is_ that?"

Bridgier grinned. "Guineas."

"What?"

"Guinea fowl. My early warning system. They let me know if anybody stops by. They'll shut up in a minute." As if on cue, the noise ceased. "What do ye need, Mr. McGee?"

"I was wondering about mowing the lawn."

"I jes' did that."

"Yes, I saw, thank you. But I figured I should probably being doing stuff like that myself."

The old man chuckled. "Ye want a mowin' lesson?"

"Well, eventually."

"Jes' let me know."

"OK, good. Thank you."

"Anything else?"

"Well, I…I was looking at the landscaping, and it needs…some work."

"Yep. Been tending those flower beds for years, but I ain't got much of a green thumb. Can't nearly tell what's a weed and what's not. I can tear it all out and ye can start over, if that's what yer thinkin'."

"OK, thank you. Do you know where I can find…stuff to fill it back up?"

"There's a farm market an' greenhouse about five miles north on the main road. Ye can find most of what ye need there. I'll be over first thing tomorrow to work on the cleanin' out those flower beds for ye."

"Thanks. I probably won't be ready to start until tomorrow afternoon, so."

"Should be done by then."

"OK. Um, good. Thank you again."

"Ye need anythin' else, ye know where ta find me."

"Is there, uh, anything else I need to do right now. With the house?"

"Nope. Been keepin' a regular schedule to make sure things don't go to rack an' ruin. Gutters were cleaned out last fall. Roof was replaced a couple of years ago. Been keeping the pond stocked, jes ' in case. Pruned the fruit trees late last month. Kept the tools in good shape. Ye might want to lay in a good supply of firewood. There's a few trees down on the property that I can take care of for ye." He grinned. "An' I can give you lessons on how to do this yerself."

"Sounds good. Thanks."

"No problem. That's what they pay me fer, at least 'til I retire to Florida."

"When will that be?"

"When they start ice skatin' in Hell, son."

Tim laughed. "Understood. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Bridgier nodded and stepped back inside his house before he closed the door. Tim headed back to his house to do some unpacking and to prepare for his shopping trip with Penny.

XXX

The sunlight was streaming in the windows by the time Tim awoke the next morning and he sat up in surprise. He checked his alarm clock and let out a soft curse. Penny would be arriving in less than twenty minutes. He quickly showered, shaved, and got dressed before hurrying down to the kitchen to fix a quick breakfast. He had just finished when he heard the key in the lock.

"Timothy?"

"I'm coming." He grabbed his keys from the rack and quickly made his way to the front door where Penny waited.

"You still look tired, Sweetheart. Did you get enough sleep?"

"Plenty, actually."

"Good. I'm glad to see you settling in. Are you ready to go?"

Tim nodded and followed her to her car. The truth was that there were plenty of other things he needed to do (and frankly would rather be doing) but he knew there was no arguing with Penny when she set her mind to something.

Several hours later he was back home, still recovering from another dose of 'sticker shock'. It turned out that curtains were much more expensive than he had realized, especially when one had to buy them for nearly 20 windows, and even more so when they needed to be special ordered. He had settled on some light weight (and cheaper) curtains that would work for the time being while he waited for the others to be finished. He was thankful he had managed to build up some savings again, although those were being rapidly depleted with each new project.

He noticed that the flower beds had been cleared out and the debris carted away, so he found a tape measure and started to sketch out the layout of the beds. He figured it would make it easier to get the correct (and minimum) number of plants if he had that information on hand.

Tim was concentrating on measuring and sketching the last bed when he experienced the sensation of something hovering nearby. He quickly turned and came face to face with his visitor, whose large, quivering nose was just inches from his own. He froze, unsure of what to do, as his companion nuzzled at his shirt pocket. Suddenly, he heard a voice in the distance.

"Harry? Harry!"

He slowly turned to find a stocky, middle-aged woman heading towards him, sputtering an apology.

"I am so sorry. I don't know how he got out again. He didn't do any damage, did he?" She clipped the end of a lead rope on "Harry's" halter and gave it a sharp tug, which prompted the animal to snort and step back. "Are you OK? You look a little freaked out."

"I'm fine." He managed a smile. "You know, I expected a stray dog or two out here in the country. A stray horse, on the other hand…"

"Not something you see every day. Sorry about Houdini, here. He's terminally nosy and is always running off to check out the neighborhood. I'm Darlene, by the way. Darlene Kirby. I'm your closest neighbor."

"Tim McGee." He shook her proffered hand. "Nice to meet you."

"So you're the Fisher's nephew? I heard you were moving in. What do you think of the place so far?"

"It's…been interesting."

She nodded towards his sketch pad. "Landscaping?"

"Trying. I'm not really sure where to start. I tried online, but there are just so many options."

"Sounds like you need to talk to someone face-to-face. You should go see Mikela. She and her husband have the greenhouse up the road. She's great at that sort of thing." Darlene chortled. "Just don't let her talk you into a puppy."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Grayson's Greenhouse. Check it out. Tell Mikela I sent you, she'll give you a good deal."

"Thanks." Tim blushed slightly as he remembered his manners. "Would you like a cup of coffee, or something?"

"Nah, I'm fine. I better get Harry back to his stall and send J.J. out to find where he got out. That's my son: Jeff, Jr. My husband, Jeff, Sr. leases your farmland." Darlene checked her watch. "You better hurry, Grayson's closes at four."

"Will do. Thanks."

She grinned. "Welcome to the neighborhood." She gave Harry's lead rope a tug and he begrudgingly followed her down the driveway. Tim shook his head in wonder. At least he'd have some interesting stories to tell, living here. He gathered up his sketches and was soon on the road again, headed for the greenhouse.

When he arrived he was greeted by an athletic-looking dark-haired woman who identified herself as Mikela. When he explained what he needed she immediately took him on a tour of the greenhouse, explaining the care and requirements of the variety of plants within. He showed her the sketches and she began making notes on them as she showed him what type of plants could go where, when they would bloom, and how they would look as a collection. After nearly an hour of planning and discussion, he selected an assortment of plants, fertilizer, and mulch and Mikela rang up his purchases. Tim winced as his savings took yet another hit.

"I know it seems like a lot, but you're planting perennials, which will come back year after year. You'll save money in the long run."

"Good to know."

She helped him carry the material out to his car and immediately saw a problem: not everything would fit. "I can have my husband deliver the mulch and the rest of the plants later after we close. No extra charge, seeing as you're a new customer. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks."

She studied him for a moment. "It's nice to see someone take enough pride in their house to put some effort into landscaping. Really makes it seem like a home." She gave him a grin. "You know what else really makes a house a home?"

"Let me guess. A dog?"

Mikela laughed. "Darlene warned you, didn't she?"

"She said not to let you talk me into a puppy."

"Of course. Now, if you'd like to take a look…"

Tim chuckled. "I had a dog. With my job, I was never home, and even with a dog walker…a bored German Shepherd in a small apartment is definitely not a good thing."

"I can imagine."

"I wound up giving him to my mother. I don't think getting another dog would be a good idea right now."

"Maybe not, but say, in another month or so, after you get settled in… Listen. I think I might have a solution for you."

"What kind of solution?"

"I have an older puppy that's just a wonderful little dog. I'd love to keep her and train her, but my husband says we already have too many dogs. He has put his foot down. Now, say that I give her to you, so officially she's yours, and I can watch her for you during the day while you're at work and still continue her training. Consider it a joint-custody arrangement. It's a win-win situation."

"Will your husband agree to that?"

"I think I can convince him."

Tim thought about it. Truthfully, he really did miss having a dog. It seemed like a good solution on the surface, but…

"My work hours can be pretty crazy. Sometimes I have to leave town at a moment's notice."

"Not a problem. My work hours are pretty flexible. One of the perks of running your own business."

"I guess I should ask, what kind of dog is she?"

"Australian Shepherd."

"Aren't those, uh, working dogs?"

"Yes, but she's from a line which has temperaments better suited to being companions."

Tim thought it over, weighing the options, and finally made a decision.

"OK. We'll give it a try, but she may not even like me, you know. I guess I should meet her to find out, huh?"

"Follow me." Mikela led him past the row of greenhouses to a barn with several kennels attached to one side. She indicated that he should wait and disappeared inside, emerging a few moments later with the dog, a little blue merle female with striking blue eyes, who stopped and cocked her head when she caught sight of Tim.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to come home with me?" he asked as he squatted down to her level.

Her rear end started to wiggle as she bounced over to him and rolled over on her back, one paw waving as if she was encouraging him to rub her belly. He immediately obliged.

"I guess that's a yes."

She rolled back over and sat up on her haunches, placing her front paws on his leg, and grinned. Tim laughed and was soon joined by Mikela.

"I'd say she definitely likes you."

"What's her name?"

"Maddie."

"I'm going to have to get a kennel or something set up for her, just in case she can't be at your place."

"Not a problem. As I said, once you're settled in."

"Thanks."

"Thank _you_. That's a big weight off of my mind."

"Happy to help," Tim replied, as was a little surprised to find he really meant it. He now had something else to look forward to with his new home: a new companion.

XXX

Tim spent the remainder of the weekend and the next few free Sundays finishing up the landscaping and unpacking before turning his attention to Maddie's accommodations. He found a suitable kennel, complete with a dog house for a reasonable price and managed to get everything set up by the end of the month. The following weekend he brought Maddie home and was happy to discover that not only was she easy to care for, but she was as personable as she had been at their first meeting. He truly enjoyed spending his free time with her and the feeling was obviously mutual.

One Saturday in late May, Tim was at home, relaxing on the back porch, with Maddie snoozing at his feet. Suddenly he realized how long it had been since he had done something other than work on his house or spend time with his dog. His normal pursuits, online games and computer programming, had fallen by the wayside. He was surprised to discover that he really didn't miss them.

He had better things to do with his free time, now.


	5. Chapter 5 - June

More Than a Heap of Stones

Chapter 5 – June

A/N: There's a little scene in this chapter inspired by hazelmom and K9Lasko. They'll know it when they see it ;) Special thanks to my beta, thecookiemomma, for her input in this chapter.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you, McGee?"

Tim winced, although he had been expecting the question. The bruise on his face had darkened since that morning and had become more noticeable than he hoped, but then again, even a minor change in appearance was apt to be noted by Tony.

"Believe it or not, I ran into a cabinet door."

"I've heard that one before. You aren't hiding an abusive girlfriend from us, are you?"

"No. I guess I left one of the cabinet doors open last night by accident, and since I was running a little late this morning, I was hurrying and not paying attention. I wasn't expecting to be open, of course. It was just an unfortunate accident."

"Well try not to have too many of those, McGee. People will talk."

"_You_ will talk, you mean," Tim retorted with a slight smile, but underneath he was a little unsettled. He was sure he _had_ closed that cabinet door before going to bed. Maybe the hinges needed adjusting, or something…

Tim made it through the rest of the day without too much scrutiny, but when someone did comment on the colorful addition to his face, Tony made up a story that had nothing to do with the actual injury. Of course, being Tony, he expanded or elaborated every time he had to tell it, so by the end of the day, a simple act of clumsiness had turned into a badge of honor that started with a whacked-out suspect and evolved to a full-on barroom brawl.

Tim was _really_ glad to see the day end.

He had just gathered his belongings and was getting ready to head for the elevator when Tony and Ziva moved to block his path.

"What?"

"Come on, McGee, you haven't joined us for dinner or drinks in months. I think you need a break, especially since your house seems to be biting back."

"Cute, Tony. I really can't. I have to pick up Maddie on the way home…" Tim froze, realizing a bit too late that he hadn't told them about his new housemate.

"Who's Maddie? Is that the one who's been beating you up?"

Tim huffed in annoyance. "No, Tony, no one has been beating me up. Maddie is my dog."

"You have a dog? Since when? How did we not know about this?"

"Yes, since last week, and you didn't ask."

"I thought you did not want another dog, McGee. Your schedule…"

"It's complicated, Ziva. Her original owner needed to find her a home, and I needed a reliable dog-sitter. We worked out a compromise."

"Huh. So when do we get to meet Maddie? We're still waiting for that housewarming party, you know. How about the fourth of July weekend?"

"We might be on call, Tony."

"We're not." They all turned to Gibbs as he continued. "All ready took care of it."

"Great! It's settled. Party at Probie's."

"Looking forward to it," said Gibbs, and smirked at the sudden shocked silence from his team.

"Uh, thanks, Boss." _No pressure, not at all…_

"Did you get a grill, McGee?"

"Not yet. I've been kind of busy, Tony."

"You and me: this weekend. We're going shopping."

"I've got a lot of work to do this weekend."

"Tony can help."

"Uh, Boss, I'm not sure that's such a good idea." Tim remembered his own first attempts at yard work and wasn't sure Tony would fare much better.

"What kind of work are we talking about, here, McGee?"

"The usual: mowing the lawn, trimming, weeding, cleaning the dog kennel…"

"Ugh. Forget I asked."

"It's OK. I should be done by noon. We'll go then." Tim figured that would also give him time to do some research on what type of grill he would need…and could afford.

"I'll be there."

Tim finally managed to get away from his desk and headed for the elevator. Once inside he smiled ruefully and shook his head.

_So much for a quiet weekend…_

XXX

Tim had just finished his morning coffee when he heard a loud knock on the front door.

_I really need to get that doorbell fixed. _

He walked down the hall and looked through one of the windows adjoining the front door. When he saw who it was, he opened the door and confronted his early-morning visitor.

"I said noon, Tony."

"Yeah, I know. I figured you'd be done faster with a little help."

"You want to help now? Why?"

"I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to see the McGee in his new habitat."

"Right." Tim opened the door further and allowed Tony to enter the house. "Coffee's in the kitchen."

Tony glanced around the hallway as he followed Tim to the back of the house. "You added a few things."

"Yes, furniture."

"Still looks a little bare, though. You need some pictures in here or something."

"It's a work in progress, Tony." They reached the kitchen and Tim handed Tony a mug for his coffee.

"Where's your dog?"

"She's in her crate in the laundry room."

"Why are you keeping her in a cage?"

"Because she had surgery yesterday and she needs to stay calm. She doesn't mind being in the crate. Mikela says it's like a cave to her, a place to feel secure."

"Who's Mikela?"

"Her previous owner."

"Oh. What was the surgery for? Did you get a defective pup?"

"No, she was spayed. I really don't want to deal with her going into heat every 6 months, or with puppies. She'll be fine in a few days."

Tim noticed that Tony was glancing at the laundry room door a little too often as he drank his coffee. He just laughed softly and shook his head. "You can go see her, Tony, just don't get her too excited." Before he had finished the sentence Tony had hopped off his stool and halfway to the door. Maddie let out a bark as Tony opened the door and he paused. Tim decided to run interference.

"Let me get her out for you." He opened the crate door and she slowly stepped out, her rear end already wiggling, but with a bit less energy than normal. He gave her a quick rub behind the ears and stepped back so she could go to Tony.

"She has blue eyes. That's weird."

"It's normal for her breed."

"And she doesn't even have a tail!"

"Also normal, Tony. Stop trying to give my dog a complex."

Tony crouched down to her level and she rolled over on her back, waving one paw in the air. He scratched her chest, carefully avoiding the incision on her belly.

"Cute dog, Probie."

"Thanks." Maddie let Tony pet her for a minute before getting back up and returning to her crate to lay down with a soft sigh. Tim shut the door and turned to Tony. "Guess she's had enough for now."

"Right. So what's first on the agenda?"

"Agenda?"

"Yard work, McGee. Mowing. You said it needed to be done."

"Why do you want…?" He studied Tony's eager expression and suddenly, he got it. "You want to try the riding lawnmower, don't you?" Tony just grinned. "Have you ever used one before?"

"Nope, but it's a just a little tractor, McGee. How hard can it be?"

Tim just shook his head. "It's not quite that simple." Tony gave him a pleading look and he sighed. "OK, fine. But you have to be careful." He led Tony out to the garage where the mower sat out front, waiting to be used. Tim quickly explained how to start it and how the gears worked, then moved on to safety.

"Don't make sharp turns, especially on slopes, or you can flip it over. Don't put the mowing deck down too low. Stay away from the landscaping, and don't get too close to the trees." Tim glanced at the groups of green and white plants he had put in the previous weekend, which circled the bases of several trees that dotted the lawn. "One more thing: if you mow down my new hostas, I'll kill you."

Tony's face split into a wide grin and he intoned in a bad Austrian accent, "_Hosta la vista, baby._"

"Tony!"

"OK, OK, your flowers are safe. Anything else?"

"Just…be careful, alright? I really don't want to have to explain any major injuries to Gibbs."

"Come on, McGee. How likely is it for someone to hurt themselves on a lawnmower?"

"Do you want the stats?"

"Fine, McKilljoy, I'll be careful." Tony started up the tractor and drove it to the edge of the lawn, where he started to mow. Tim watched for a minute or so until he was sure Tony had the hang of it before he started on his own tasks of weeding and trimming.

It was almost noon before both men finished their respective jobs, and after everything was put away and Tim had grabbed a quick shower, they took Tim's car and headed for the nearest home care and supply center. Tim had checked the sales earlier and had a pretty good idea what he wanted, but he figured that he should at least see what the grills looked like and how well they worked before making his final decision.

"So what kind of grill are you getting? Charcoal or gas?" Tony asked when they reached the store.

"Gas. I think it's easier to deal with than charcoal, and doesn't make as big a mess."

"Charcoal makes the food taste better."

"I've never been able to tell the difference."

"And you wonder why we thought you didn't know anything about cooking."

Tim ignored the comment and headed for the section where the grills were on display. After talking to one of the sales associates and examining the grills (accompanied by Tony's commentary, of course), Tim selected a mid-sized four burner model that had received good reviews on Consumer Report.

"How is that going to fit in your car, Probie?"

"Some assembly required."

"Oh. Great."

"You wanted to tag along, Tony. You get to help."

"Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

They got the grill home, took all of the pieces out of the box, and found the directions. All fourteen pages of them.

"Piece of cake," Tony declared. "Should take twenty minutes, tops."

Two hours, several bruised and pinched fingers, and quite a bit of swearing later, they had the grill assembled and carried it to the small patio adjacent to the back porch.

"Thanks, Tony."

"No problem. You ready to try it out?"

"Maybe later. I'll need to go to the store, first."

"Well then let's go."

"Tony…"

"What? After all that work, I at least deserve to be fed."

"Yeah, of course…"

Two hours later they were sitting on the back porch, stomachs full of slightly well-done steak (it had taken a bit of practice to get the flame on the grill right), roasted potatoes, and summer squash that had been surprisingly easy to prepare on the grill as well. Each man held a bottle of beer in their dominant hand and Maddie was curled up at Tim's feet.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you decide to help me out today?"

"Why not? Are you suggesting I had some ulterior motive?"

"No, not really. I just never thought this would be your kind of thing."

"I'm expanding my horizons. What do you want me to say, Probie? I thought it would be something different. Fun, even."

"So was it?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"'Good'?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you could get a break, Tony. I'm glad we're _both_ getting some peace and quiet. That's a rare thing these days."

"Me, too. And you're right. When did our lives get so crazy?"

"The minute we joined Gibbs' team."

Tony chuckled. "Truer words were never spoken, Probie. Hey, maybe next weekend we can do this again. Well, not the shopping, but the hanging out."

"You _want_ to hang out with me?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I think the country air is getting to you, Tony. Messing with your mind," Tim replied with a grin.

"Nothing wrong with my mind, Tim."

"I know lots of people that would argue that point."

"Whatever. Some might say the same for you. City boy, moving to the middle of nowhere. I think I might have seen this in a movie…"

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Tim?"

"Shut up and drink your beer."

XXX

An ominous roll of thunder drew Tim's attention from the book he was reading and he rose from his chair and walked to the parlor window. It had been unseasonably hot and humid for mid-June and the weather forecasters had been predicting strong storms to arrive that evening. When Tim looked out the window at the rapidly darkening sky he felt a twinge of apprehension: the low-hanging clouds were tinged a sickly green color, and the branches of the old oak outside the window were whipping back and forth in the wind. Tim pulled out his cell phone and checked the weather, only to find that a tornado watch had been issued for the area. He decided that he had better move the few pieces of outdoor furniture and the grill into the garage to prevent damage, and once that task had been completed he checked the weather again. When he read the message, fear began to churn in his gut. The watch had been upgraded to a warning, and it looked like he was in the possible path of the tornado. He called for Maddie, grabbed a flashlight (in case the power went out) from one of the kitchen doors and headed for the basement. He was half-way down the steps when he noticed that Maddie wasn't with him.

"Maddie! Come on, girl. We're going to hang out down here for a while. Better safe than sorry."

He heard a soft whine and headed back up the stairs, only to find the dog standing just outside the door, crouched down and looking quite anxious. Tim remembered when he was a kid that a neighbor's dog had been absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. Maddie was probably experiencing the same thing.

"Come on, Maddie. It's OK. We'll be safe down here."

She let out a small yelp and took off for the laundry room, where he found her hiding in the back of her crate. He checked outside and saw that the wind had gotten even worse.

"OK, fine." He grabbed her leash and crouched down to clip it to her collar, giving it a tug as he stood up. "Heel."

She planted her feet against the front of the crate as he tried to pull her out.

"What's the matter?" She just whined. "Come on, we need to get downstairs." After several unsuccessful attempts to get her to walk to the basement, he finally picked her up and carried her down the steps. She struggled a little when he reached the door but finally stopped fighting him once he had started down, although she was shaking like a leaf. He carried her over to an old but sturdy bench that he had found on a previous trip and sat down with her in his lap, stroking her head in an attempt to calm her.

As he was dealing with the nervous dog, Tim took a cursory look around the basement. He hadn't been down here too many times before. The floor was the original dirt, and it was a little too damp to spent more time than necessary. A single bulb hung from the ceiling and cast feeble light in the rather gloomy space. It _was_ cooler than the rest of the house, something Tim could appreciate after the oppressive heat that had pervaded the area that weekend.

A loud crash of thunder shook the house and suddenly the lights went out, plunging the two of them into darkness. Tim switched on his flashlight and immediately noticed that it was dimmer than it should have been. He reminded himself to replace the batteries and switched it off again to preserve what little juice it had left. Maddie was still trembling slightly and he continued to pet her, hoping to provide an anchor for the obviously stressed animal. He checked his phone and saw that the battery on it was low, too, so he kept it off as well.

After about twenty minutes, the sound of the wind had finally died down and Tim decided to head upstairs to check on the damage. Just as he was getting ready to put Maddie down on the floor and stand up he thought he heard a new sound: footsteps. Wondering how someone had managed to get in the house and down the stairs without him noticing (had he dozed off?), he turned on the flashlight and shined it in the direction from which the sound originated.

There was nothing there.

Before he could register what he was _not_ seeing, Maddie jumped off his lap with a yelp and bolted for the stairs, jerking the leash from his hand and almost sending him sprawling. He recovered quickly and shined the light around the basement, only to find that he was completely alone. He told himself—albeit rather unconvincingly-that he must have imagined it and quickly made his way to the first floor, shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it. He checked the rest of the house for signs of an intruder, but all of the doors and windows were secure, with no signs of a break in.

Maddie was back in her crate and she gave him a reproachful look when he tried to get her to come out. Finally he just shut the crate door and headed outside to check the damage. There were leaves and branches everywhere, and one of the trees at the edge of the driveway had split, with one half blocking the drive.

Tim spent the next couple of hours cleaning up the mess, trying to keep his mind off of what had occurred, or _not_ occurred, in the basement that afternoon.


	6. Chapter 6 - July

A/N: This chapter might make you a little hungry ;)

* * *

More Than a Heap of Stones

Chapter 6 – July

Tim checked his watch and let out a soft sigh of relief. His guests were scheduled to arrive for his housewarming in an hour, and he had managed to get everything ready for the impending celebration.

Gibbs had arranged for the team to have a three-day weekend, although technically Ducky and Jimmy were still on call. Tim really hoped they would be allowed to enjoy the time off as well. He had invited everyone to his house on Saturday, with a planned arrival time of 1500. After he had finished the yard work, he had spent every waking moment of the previous day making sure the house was ready: dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing tile and polishing the wood floors, washing windows and curtains, and making sure the beds had clean linens and the bathrooms had clean towels; all things he remembered his mother requiring for houseguests.

Tim had also scrubbed the patio furniture that he had purchased the previous weekend. He had been a bit dubious when his neighbor Darlene had asked him to join her for the community yard sale weekend, but—much to his surprise—he had found some good bargains. One of these finds had been a large patio table in very good condition, and along with a few lawn chairs and a chaise, he had furnished the back porch with almost enough seating for his entire team. Now everything was clean and ready for their arrival.

Tim had spent that morning preparing his share of the food for the party. The others had promised to each bring something, including hotdogs, hamburgers, and chicken, so Tim decided to make the traditional picnic foods he remembered from his childhood. He had encountered his first stumbling block when he tried to search online for recipes. While he remembered seeing recipes for such things back when he was an avid _Redbook_ reader, he never realized there were so many versions of coleslaw, potato salad, and deviled eggs, and he had no idea which would appeal to his team (and negate Tony's idea that he didn't know how to cook). He mentioned his problem to Darlene and she had provided him with some "tried and true" family favorites.

The coleslaw she had suggested called for blue cheese, which Tim found a bit odd, but she said he could use feta instead or leave it out, and he decided on the latter. The dressing for the mix of shredded green and red cabbage and carrots included two types of mustard, mayonnaise, and cider vinegar, and was different than he remembered but after testing it he decided it was a better substitute. The potato salad used sour cream, green onions, and dill rather than mustard and relish in addition to the mayo in the dressing, another good change from Tim's perspective. Finally the deviled eggs, with mayo, deli brown mustard instead of yellow, Old Bay seasoning, and a dash of paprika on top were definitely better than he remembered. He'd have to remember to thank Darlene's husband for that recipe.

After the salads and eggs were safety tucked in the refrigerator, Tim made a quick trip to the store for ice, which he poured into three coolers that he had dragged up from the barn, then thoroughly scrubbed and rinsed the day before. Two big bags of ice went into each of two coolers: one for beer and one for soda. The third smaller bag covered a large watermelon that Tim had bought for dessert, one picnic food from his childhood that thankfully hadn't required any research.

Tim made one last check to be sure that everything was ready. The reusable plastic plates, cups and dinnerware were set out neatly on the center counter of the kitchen, the pitchers of iced tea and fresh lemonade that he had also made were chilling in the refrigerator, along with toppings for the hamburgers and hotdogs. He had also purchased a supply of breakfast foods for tomorrow for his guests who would be spending the night. Last but not least, the grill was clean and ready to go, complete with a full tank of propane. It looked like he was set and he hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important.

He grabbed a quick shower and then went down to release Maddie from her kennel. She happily followed him back to the house and he sat on the back steps, petting her to calm his nerves. He had never hosted a party like this before, and it was nerve-wracking, but by the time he heard the first vehicle pull into the driveway he was ready to play host.

He put Maddie in her crate with her favorite chew toy and went to greet his first guests, which turned out to be Gibbs and Tony. They were pulling two large tarp-wrapped objects out of the bed of Gibbs' truck when Tim reached the driveway.

"Hey Boss, hey Tony. What are those?"

"Housewarming present," Gibbs replied, and Tim blushed.

"Thanks, Boss, but you really didn't need…" Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him and Tim's blushed deepened. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. We'll take these around to the back porch."

"Got it, Boss," Tony replied with a salute and carried the package, with some difficulty to the back porch. Gibbs deposited the other package and returned to his truck to retrieve another cooler, while Tony grabbed a five-gallon bucket full of fresh corn, which he handed to Tim, and three paper grocery sacks. Tim sent him a questioning look and Tony shrugged. "Gibbs' contribution to the food supply. We brought hamburgers and hotdogs, but he said it's not a cookout without corn on the cob."

"OK. I'll get a pot of water going to cook the corn."

"Won't need it, McGee. It's going on the grill."

"Oh."

Gibbs just chuckled at McGee's confusion and carried the cooler into the kitchen, checking out the hallway as he passed through.

"Looks good, McGee. I like those pictures you put up."

"Thanks. Penny found them for me." The pictures were photographs of the house from various seasons and time periods. Tim's grandmother had had them restored and framed.

Gibbs deposited the cooler in the kitchen as Tony set one of the bags on the counter, and the trio then headed for the back porch. Two cantaloupe joined the watermelon in one cooler and two six packs of beer were deposited in another before Gibbs took the bucket of corn and sat down on the porch steps. The two younger men watched as Gibbs took one of the ears of corn and removed the long leaves before pulling the husks down but not off. He removed the silk and the tip of the cob before pulling the husk back up. Tim and Tony repeated his movements with their own ears of corn, and soon the whole bucket was ready. Gibbs dumped the prepared cobs back in the bucket and instructed Tim to fill it with water. Tim carried it to the laundry room to fill in the sink.

"Now what, Boss?"

"They have to soak for at least a half an hour, and then we'll just toss them on the grill."

They returned to the kitchen and Tony started emptying the grocery bag he had left there earlier, pulling out potato rolls for the hotdogs and Ciabatta rolls for the hamburgers, while Gibbs pulled two packs of Kosher hotdogs and several trays of hamburgers out of the cooler and put them in the refrigerator. Tim was starting to wonder if he would have enough room for everything when he heard a knock at the front door. He hurried to answer it and found Ziva and Abby on the front steps, Abby with a large flat box in her arms and Ziva with a large plastic covered bowl in her hands and a canvas bag over one arm.

"Hey, glad you could make it."

"Couldn't miss this for the world, Timmy," Abby replied, practically bouncing.

"I am looking forward to this as well," said Ziva, much more sedate, and Tim stepped aside and let them pass through the door, just in time to see another car stop in the driveway. Jimmy, Breena, and Ducky emerged, with Jimmy carrying another cooler and Ducky and Breena each carrying a bag and a platter or plate. Tim greeted them as well before directing them to the kitchen.

"Gee, Probie, I don't think we're going to have enough food," Tony commented when Tim returned to the kitchen and then winced as he received a headslap from Gibbs. Tim shook his head and chuckled, especially when he saw the collection of dishes his co-workers had brought along.

Abby's flat box contained an assortment of cupcakes that had been frosted with red, white, or blue icing and arranged in the box to resemble an American flag. Ziva's contribution was a salad made with couscous, feta, red peppers, green onions, and chickpeas. Ducky had brought a large tray of assorted raw vegetables, which he called _crudités_, and three types of dip. Breena had brought a plate covered with layers of red, white, and green, which she identified as _caprese_ – tomato, mozzarella and basil salad—and a bag of sliced Italian bread. Jimmy pulled a bag of boneless skinless chicken thighs out of the cooler, along with a jar of reddish powder and a bottle of barbecue sauce. When Tim gave him a questioning look, he grinned.

"Drunken chicken."

"The people are supposed to get drunk at the party, Palmer, not the chicken…thanks, Boss."

"It's chicken marinated in beer, Tony. You put some of this dry rub on it and grill it, then add the barbecue sauce at the end. It's good, trust me."

"Guess we'll find out," remarked Gibbs and the group laughed as Jimmy blushed.

"What did _you_ make, McGee?" asked Tony, and Tim explained the dishes he had prepared.

"Sounds good. Let's get the grill fired up."

Gibbs manned the grill while the rest of the group chatted and Tim ran back and forth, making sure everyone had what they needed. Finally Gibbs stopped him as he was making another run to the kitchen.

"Relax, Tim. Everything is fine."

"Thanks, Boss. I'll try."

Finally the grilled food was ready and the group migrated to the kitchen to fill their plates before making a stop at the grill for corn, burgers, and hotdogs.

"This is great, Boss. I see you can make stuff besides steak," Tony commented, earning a glare from Gibbs.

"Did you ever doubt that, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss."

Gibbs just smirked and continued eating.

Tim tried a bit of everything, pleased to discover that all of it was good, even the stuff he had tried to make. He complimented everyone on their dishes and they returned the praise, even Tony.

"Looks like you do know a little about cooking, McGee."

"Thanks. I'm just glad everything turned out OK."

After everyone had eaten their fill, Tim collected the dishes and took them into the kitchen to rinse and set aside to wash later. He had almost finished the stack when he heard Tony calling him, and soon the older man appeared in the doorway.

"Uh, Tim? You have a visitor."

He looked out the window and saw a familiar figure standing on the lawn, its ears twitching back and forth as it studied the group watching it from the safety of the porch. Tim sighed as he reached for his cell phone and punched a number.

"Hi, Darlene, it's Tim McGee. Harry's paying me a visit again." He smirked when he heard a soft curse on the other line before she assured him someone would be over to fetch the errant equine.

"Harry?" Tony asked as Tim ended the call.

"Houdini. Belongs to the neighbors. Apparently he's quite an escape artist."

Tony laughed. "Damn, and I thought country living was boring."

"Hardly." They headed back outside to find Breena, Ziva, and Abby all standing around the beast, scratching his ears and petting his neck and nose.

"You know, you really don't need to encourage him," Tim remarked and Abby grinned.

"Why don't you get one of these, McGee?"

Tim snorted. "A dog is enough, thanks."

"Where is your dog, McGee?" Ziva asked as she gave Harry one final pat and headed back to the porch.

"Staying out of trouble, for the moment. I'll let her out when it cools off a bit."

A few minutes later the neighbors' daughter, Julia, arrived out of breath and looking rather embarrassed.

"Sorry about this, Mr. McGee. We just can't seem to get him to stay home."

"It's OK, Julia, I'm kind of used to him by now."

"Get him a girlfriend," Tony suggested. "That might give him a reason."

"Tried that. He taught her how to escape, too." She clipped the lead rope to Harry's halter. "Sorry for interrupting your party. Mom wanted me to remind you to watch towards the east starting around 9:30. There's a fireworks display at the fairgrounds and you should be able to see some of it from here."

"Thanks. Tell you mom thanks, too."

"No problem. Come on, you idjit," she said to Harry and gave a tug on the rope. He followed her, head drooping slightly as they made their way back towards home.

"Well, looks like we've got some time to kill. I guess it's time for you to open your presents."

"Guys, you didn't have to…"

"Of course we did, McGee." Abby jumped up and dashed out to her car, with the rest following at a slightly slower pace.

The group soon returned with boxes and gift bags, and soon they were all seated on the porch, waiting for Tim to start. He decided that since they were the first to arrive, the two mysterious packages that Gibbs had brought should be unwrapped first. He removed the tarp from the first object to reveal a hand-made Adirondack-style deck chair that had been finished in an antique blue.

"Wow! Thanks, Boss." The other package revealed its twin. "These are great. Really. Thank you." Gibbs merely nodded and smirked, although the others could tell he was pleased.

"Be glad he didn't build you a boat, McGee…thanks, Boss."

"Actually, there is an old rowboat in the barn. I have no idea if it's seaworthy, though."

"One way to find out, McGee," said Tony with a grin and Tim shot him a dirty look.

"Be my guest."

"Some other time. Now open my present."

Tim worked his way through opening the remaining gifts, which included a grilling set and Kansas City Barbecue Society cookbook from Tony, a basket of kitchen gadgets (some of which he knew he'd be looking up later to determine their use) from Ziva, a set of books on historic houses and gardens in Virginia from Jimmy and Breena, and a mantel clock from Ducky. Finally he unwrapped Abby's present, which turned out to be a large collage frame full of candid pictures of the team.

"So you won't feel lonely," she declared, but her usual smile lacked something. Tim decided he would need to talk to her later, since this was the second time in his memory she had mentioned him being 'lonely'.

"Thanks, guys. This is great. I really appreciate it, and I'm sure I'll but everything to good use."

Since it was still a couple of hours until sunset, the group silently decided to disperse and explore various areas of the property. Gibbs grabbed a couple of fishing poles and a tackle box from his truck and he and Ducky headed for the opposite side of the pond, where they baited hooks and started fishing. Jimmy and Breena headed for the woods, while Ziva stretched out on the dock to watch Gibbs and Ducky. Abby finally convinced Tim to let Maddie out, and started a game of fetch with one of Maddie's rather large collection of tennis balls. Tony stretched out in one of the new chairs, and Tim decided to try the other. It was surprisingly comfortable. Tim started to relax, but his peace was disrupted by a loud snore from Tony. Tim smirked. _Guess he thinks they're comfortable, too._

Eventually Maddie grew tired of the game and she trotted up to the porch to lie down, panting, at Tim's feet. Abby returned to the porch and sat in one of the other chairs. She was surprisingly quiet, and Tim was really starting to worry. She had seemed just a little bit off all day, but now… Before he could say anything, she finally broke her silence.

"You have a lot of space here, McGee. You know, you could even do a garden."

Tim chuckled. "Maybe next year, Abbs." She didn't seem to hear him and continued.

"We could always come down and help, you know. So you won't be lonely…I mean alone. So you won't have to do it alone."

"OK, Abby, what's going on? Why are you worried about me being alone…or lonely?"

"I've always worried about that, McGee."

"Abby…"

She bit her lip and turned away from him. "You'll laugh at me."

Tim got up from his chair and walked over to her where he knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her arms. "You know I only laugh with you, Abbs. What's wrong?"

She stared at her hands for a few moments before finally looking up to meet his gaze. "Do you remember when we stayed here to paint the house?"

"Of course. Why?"

"And you remember that I stayed in the big spare room. By myself?"

"Yes…"

"That night, I…I had a really weird dream. But I'm not sure it was a dream. It just gave me a really bad feeling."

As much as Tim hated to admit it, he knew Abby's 'bad feelings' were usually right. "What did you dream, Abby?"

She shivered, despite the warmth of the evening. "I was standing in that room, but it wasn't empty. There was furniture-old fashioned, you know? And there was a fire in the fireplace. I was standing at the window and I could see that it was snowing…and I just felt so cold, and so…lonely. I had this really bad feeling that I was never going to leave that room, and no one who loved me would come see me. It was such an awful feeling, eventually I felt like I couldn't breathe…and then I woke up. Ever since, I've had a bad feeling about you being here by yourself. You're so alone down here, and if something happened…"

"I'm not alone, Abby. I have neighbors, and there's a caretaker who checks on the place. They'll know if something's wrong. It was just a dream."

She looked up at him, her expression showing that she really wanted to believe him. "Promise?"

He smiled and nodded, but before he could say anything else they were interrupted by the return of Jimmy and Breena.

"Hey, McGee, did you know you have a graveyard?" He looked like a kid at Christmas, while Breena just rolled her eyes.

"No, I didn't. Where?"

"Back in the woods, about fifty yards. It doesn't look like it's been used in awhile, though."

"Probably a family plot."

"_Fisher_ was the name on most of the stones, so that makes sense."

"Most?" asked Abby.

"Yeah. There were a couple of others, I think. A lot of the stones were worn down and hard to read."

"Huh. I'll have to go check it out."

"In the winter, when all of the poison ivy is dead, right Probie?" Tony asked with a grin as he sat up.

"Yeah, probably."

"What are you looking so happy about, Palmer?"

"Nothing, Tony, it's just…It's an old graveyard. They're cool."

"Whatever you say, Gremlin. A little too gloomy for me."

"And yet you've probably watched every horror movie ever made."

"Well, not _every_ horror movie. I generally draw the line at re-makes."

"No arguments there," muttered Tim. "And no, we're not watching any horror movies tonight."

"Aw, you're no fun, Probie."

"Yes, I know."

Tony just chuckled and went to the cooler to grab a beer before returning to his chair. The rest of the group, joined by Ziva, followed suit and they spent the rest of the evening lounging on the porch, As it started to get dark, Gibbs and Ducky returned from the pond and the entire group headed to the far eastern side of the property, where a slight hill overlooked the neighboring fields. They stood at the summit and watched the sky, and just as the last remnants of light faded in the west, a burst of light shot into the sky to the east, erupting in a cascade of color. Other bursts followed and the group watched the display as it continued, lighting up the sky with showers of red, blue, green, and white fire.

The show lasted for nearly half an hour and when it was finished, the group slowly made their way back to the house. Gibbs and Ducky gathered up their belongings to prepare for the trip home, while the rest brought their bags inside for the planned overnight stay. Tim was finally able to relax a little. The day had gone well. He had survived his first party as host.

"Thanks, Tim," said Gibbs after he had his truck loaded. "Good job."

"Yes, indeed, Timothy, it was a lovely event. Thank you so much for hosting us for the day."

"No problem, and thank you." He turned to the rest of the group. "All of you."

"We should do this again sometime. Any chance we can get Labor Day weekend off, Boss?"

"I wouldn't count on it, DiNozzo."

"Ah, well. Some other time, then?"

"I think that's up to McGee."

They all turned to Tim expectantly and he grinned.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I'm looking forward to it."


	7. Chapter 7 - August

More Than a Heap of Stones

Chapter 7 – August

Tim pulled his car into the garage, killed the engine and breathed a sigh of relief. It was the first night he had managed to be home before midnight in almost two weeks. The team had been working on a case which had at first seemed like a rather simple murder but during a background check of the victim Tim had discovered a connection to several unsolved cases from other agencies, and soon the MCRT had joined the FBI on the hunt for a serial killer. The perpetrator was finally in custody, and as long as they didn't get a new case before the weekend the team would finally have some time off. It would be their first weekend of not being on call since the party.

Tim had already started adding to his mental "to do" list, a list that never seemed to get any shorter, especially with the work hours he had been putting in these past few weeks. Besides the usual house and yard work, he had started to think about what he needed to do to get ready for colder weather. He suspected the house would be very costly to heat with just electricity, so he would need to rely on use of the fireplaces, which meant he would need a good supply of firewood. He knew he'd need to talk to Mr. Bridgier again about that since Tim had no real experience in that area.

The house needed to be painted on the outside, which meant that the old paint needed to be stripped off and the shutters needed to be removed and painted as well. Tim didn't want to impose on his teammates again, especially since this was a considerably bigger and more dangerous job, so again he'd have to ask Mr. Bridgier for recommendations on local painters. He wasn't looking forward to another large hit to his bank account, but it had to be done.

Tim climbed out of his car, stretched, and walked out of the garage as he pressed the button to close the door. The night was still warm, but not as bad as it had been for the past few nights, and he decided that he could take Maddie out for a longer-than-normal walk after he changed out of his work clothes. He had managed to give her a good half-hour of attention before going to bed every night, despite the late hour, and was glad she wasn't locked in the crate longer than necessary on his long days. In his arrangement with Mikela, Tim would drop Maddie off on his way to work, and Mikela would bring her back to the house in the evenings. Tim felt that his dog was still spending too much time alone, but he vowed he would make it up to her not only tonight, but this weekend as well. Maybe part of one day could be spent in one of the local parks instead of at home…

He unlocked the door to the laundry room and stepped inside where he dropped his bag and hung his keys on the rack. Expecting a bark of exuberance from his pet, the silence that greeted him was a little unnerving. He flipped on the light and saw that Maddie was as far back in the corner of her crate as she could get, her eyes scrunched shut against the sudden brightness.

"Maddie?" She opened her eyes and whined. "What's wrong?" He opened the crate door and she shot out, running past him into the kitchen where she huddled in a corner. He went over to her and saw that she was trembling as she watched him with a reproachful expression. Tim knew that some storms had passed through the area earlier so he guessed that was what had frightened the dog. He crouched down and started petting her and speaking to her in a soothing voice.

"It's OK. You're fine. The storms are gone now."

She whined again and gave his face a swipe with her tongue, which made him laugh softly.

"Yeah, I missed you, too. Come on." He went back to the laundry room to retrieve his keys and her leash, the latter of which he clipped to her collar and then headed for the door. She started to follow him but when she saw where he was going she planted her feet and refused to budge. Tim sighed. He changed direction, heading for the front door and she immediately followed.

"What has gotten into you, huh?" As soon as they were outside, she started towards the kennel, barking happily. He left here there and promised to be right back before going back inside. After quickly changing into sweats, a t-shirt and sneakers, he started out to retrieve his dog from the kennel, and when he passed through the laundry room he noticed that several of Maddie's toys were in the laundry room sink instead of the basket next to her crate. He paused and picked one up, wondering if Mikela had decided to wash them. The toy was bone dry.

"Huh."

He decided to ask her about it in the morning as he carried the toy-a hot pink tennis ball that Abby had given him— down to the kennel where Maddie waited. He showed it to her and threw as hard as he could, expecting her to chase after it, but she just laid down at his feet and whined.

"Go on, go get it." She didn't move. "Great…" He gave her a command to stay, went back to the house, selected an identical tennis ball from the basket and brought it back. Maddie's ears perked up and she lifted her head, an eager expression on her face.

"OK," he said, releasing her from the stay and she jumped to her feet. He threw the ball and she zoomed after it, grabbing it from ground in mid-roll, and brought it back to him before dropping it at his feet. He picked it up again and threw it, laughing as she ran off after it again.

"Crazy dog…" He walked across the lawn to where he had thrown the other ball and eventually found it. He picked it up and sniffed it, wondering if it had rolled in something that turned Maggie off, but he could detect no foreign smell. _Maybe I should have Abby check it…_

After a few more rounds of fetch, he went back to the house to grab his keys and flashlight, made sure the door was locked, then snapped the leash onto Maddie's collar and guided her towards the driveway where he started a slow jog towards the road. He relished the chance to stretch his own slightly stiff muscles as Maddie trotted along next to him, a wide doggie grin on her face. After a couple of miles they turned and started back towards the house, and by the time they reached it the long hours had caught up with Tim and he was truly ready for a shower and sleep. A quick check of the house revealed nothing out of place—although Maddie still avoided the laundry room as she followed him on his survey of the dwelling—and finally Tim was able to start getting ready for a much needed night of rest.

XXX

Tim managed to sleep through his alarm the next morning and woke with barely enough time to shower and make it out the door in time to drop Maddie off at the Graysons'. He mentioned the toys to Mikela when she came out to meet him. She listened to his story and gave him a strange look.

"I didn't put anything in the sink, Tim. I would have left them in a bucket outside."

"Oh. Guess I did it myself, then. It's been so crazy at work, lately, I don't know if I'm coming or going half the time."

"Sounds like you need a vacation. Or at least a day off."

"Hopefully this weekend."

"Good to know. Anything I can do to help?"

Tim thought a moment before he remembered something else he needed to ask.

"Not with that, but I was wondering if there was anything you could give Maddie to calm her down during storms. She was really upset when I got home last night, and I've seen her freak out whenever a storm goes through."

"Not that I'd give her unsupervised. You could always get her one of those anti-stress coats. They're supposed to help with that sort of thing. I can look into it for you if you want."

"Thanks. I don't like seeing her that upset."

"OK. It's weird, though. She doesn't seem to be bothered by them at my house. Maybe… I guess a different environment makes a difference."

"Maybe. Look, I need to get going. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Drive safely."

The drive into work was uneventful and Tim made it to his desk with minutes to spare. He reminded himself to go ask Abby about any chemicals that could account for his dog's behavior towards the toy and got to work. By noon he had finished the paperwork associated with their most recent case and decided to take a break, so he went down to Abby's lab, taking the paper bag containing the rejected ball with him. When he got to the lab, he started to explain to Abby what had happened and what he wanted her to do. He was concentrating on making the explanation sound logical and didn't notice that he had another observer.

"So let me get this straight," Tony's voice sounded behind him. "You have things mysteriously being moved around in your house, your dog was completely freaked out and doesn't want anything to do with the objects that have been moved. I think the answer is quite obvious, McGee."

"And what's that, Tony?"

"You have a ghost."

Tim let out an exasperated sigh. "How many times to we have to go over this? There are no such thing as ghosts."

"Are you sure about that?" Tim just gave him a withering look and Tony grinned. "You mean to tell me nothing weird has ever happened to you there?"

"_No."_

"That response was a little too quick, there, McDenial. What happened?"

"Nothing. Now can you test this ball to see what's on it or not, Abby?"

"I don't think Major Mass Spec is set up to detect ecto-cooties," Tony snarked and Abby giggled. Tim was saved from saying something he might regret by the ringing of his phone.

"Yeah, Boss? Got it." He turned to Tony. "Gibb wants us to go interview another potential witness against Monaghan."

"Great, but I'm driving, McSpooky."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just go."

"I'll check this out for you McGee. Just in case."

"Thanks, Abbs."

The interview of the witness was thankfully routine and soon they were back at the Yard. Tim typed up his notes from the interview and went down to check and see if Abby had anything for him. She told him she hadn't been able to find anything on the toy other than what was supposed to be there.

"Maybe Tony is right," Abby offered with a smirk. Tim just shook his head and headed back to his desk. He sat down and tapped his mouse to get rid of the screen saver, only to be greeted by the theme from _Ghostbusters_ blasting from his speakers. Tim quickly hit the mute button on sound setting and sent an angry look in Tony's direction.

"Real cute, DiNozzo."

"Come on, McGee, you have to admit, _there's something strange…in your neighborhood…"_

"The strangest thing in my neighborhood is Harry."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." He deleted the song from the computer with a huff of disgust. "I don't want to hear anymore about it, either."

Tim went back to his work, ignoring the 'scary' faces Tony was making at him, and counted down the minutes until he could leave for the day. He was really glad that there was only one day left before the weekend.

XXX

A ray of sunlight danced across Tim's face, causing him to stir and turn his head away from the annoyance. He blinked as his bedside clock came into focus and when he registered the blinking numbers he sat up with a curse, realizing he power must have blinked sometime during the night. He checked his watch and cursed again, much louder. It was way past the time to leave and he was going to be really late for work. Not wanting to raise Gibbs' ire any more than necessary right before the weekend, Tim rushed to get ready and out the door. As he was running down the stairs, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a now-familiar number.

"Mikela? It's Tim. I'm running really late and I need you to pick Maddie up this morning."

"_No problem. I hope you get that vacation. Sounds like you really need it now."_

"Me, too." He reached the kitchen and headed for the fridge to grab something to eat on the way. "Thanks again. I really—"

Suddenly his right foot slipped out from under him, sending him off balance and twisting his other leg underneath of him and he toppled backwards. Before he could catch himself, his back and right elbow slammed into the floor, followed by his head, and consciousness faded as the frantic voice on the phone went unanswered.

"Tim? Tim!"

The tone of the voice and a slap on his cheek pulled Tim awake, much to his immediate regret. Pain exploded throughout his body as he tried to focus on the worried face leaning over him.

"Tim? You with me now? What happened?"

"Mikela? What are you…?" He groaned as the memory returned. "Late…for work."

"I think that's the least of your worries. Can you sit up?"

He tried but the pain increased and groaned again. "I…don't think so…"

"OK, don't move. I'm calling 911."

"No, don't…I'll be OK. Just…give me a minute." He blinked again as he tried to focus his strength on getting upright, but his muscles practically screamed in protest. "Or a few minutes…"

Mikela ignored his protests and called for an ambulance. Tim closed his eyes as he felt a flush of embarrassment color his cheeks. He could almost hear the mocking '_help, I've fallen and I can't get up._' That phrase held no humor for him at the moment.

"They'll be here as soon as they can, Tim. Do you remember what happened?"

"I…slipped…on something…I think."

"The floor's wet. I think your sink is leaking."

"Great…one more thing…for the list."

Mikela chuckled. "Yeah, I know how that is. I think you're going to have to call in an expert this time. I don't think you're going to be up to doing any plumbing repairs for awhile."

_Guess I'll have to ask Gibbs…oh, crap…_

"My boss. I need to call him and…" As if on cue, Tim's phone rang. "I better get that…"

"I've got it." She retrieved his phone from where it lay a few feet from the fallen man and answered it. Before she could say a word, Tim heard Gibbs' angry voice over the line.

"_McGee, where the hell are you?"_

"As soon as the ambulance gets here, he'll be on his way to the hospital," Mikela replied acerbically. "Is this his boss?"

"_What happened?"_

"He fell, hit his head, looks like he twisted his leg pretty badly. I don't think he'll be making it in to work today."

Tim winced. Gibbs really was going to kill him now. He waved at Mikela to get her to give him the phone.

"Let me talk to him." She handed it to him rather reluctantly. "Boss? I'm sorry, I'll be there as soon as…I can move."

"_Which hospital?"_

"I don't…" He looked up at Mikela and she considered the question.

"County General. It's the closest."

Tim relayed that information to Gibbs and paused as a wave of dizziness hit him.

"_McGee?"_

"I'm…OK."

"_Sure as hell doesn't sound like it to me, Tim. Go get checked out. That's an order."_

"Yes, Boss." He heard the line disconnect and lowered the phone to the floor just as he heard the ambulance siren approaching. Mikela gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Tim, they'll fix you up in a jiffy. And look on the bright side."

"Bright side?"

"You'll get a vacation from work, now."

"Very funny…"

Her expression grew serious. "Don't worry about anything here. I'll get this water mopped up and turn off the water to the sink so it doesn't leak anymore. Do you have a plumber?"

Tim chuckled weakly. "Just Gibbs…my boss."

"Oh. I'll see if I can find someone local for you, then. I'll wait until you're back here before I let them in though, OK?"

"OK. Thanks."

The doorbell rang and Mikela went to let the paramedics in. Soon they had him in a neck brace (just a precaution, they assured him) and moved him to a stretcher. Tim bit his lip to keep from moaning when they carefully straightened his leg and lay in a haze of pain as they carried him out the front door to the waiting ambulance.

Once he was at the hospital he was subjected to a thorough exam and a series of tests, including x-rays and an MRI. The doctor finally informed him that he had suffered a severe sprain in his knee but luckily nothing appeared to have been torn, and he had a hairline fracture in his right elbow. He also had a concussion, and because he had lost consciousness and experienced dizziness they wanted to keep him overnight for observation and more tests. Tim tried to protest but the doctor was unmoved. After another exam Tim's right arm was splinted and put in a sling and his left knee was placed in an immobilizer. Less than fifteen minutes later Tim was settled in a room where he was given an analgesic to help with the pain. Unfortunately, due to the concussion, the dose was not very high and he was still pretty miserable.

The pain had finally faded to bearable levels and he was starting to drift off to sleep when he sensed a presence in his room. He opened his eyes and saw Gibbs standing next to his bed, watching him.

"Boss!" He tried to sit up and bit back a yelp as his entire body seized up. Gibbs gently pushed him back onto the bed.

"Easy, McGee. You need to stay still."

"I noticed," he replied in a weak voice and Gibbs chuckled softly.

"Give it time. What happened? How did you fall?"

"It was…stupid. The kitchen sink was leaking and I didn't notice the water on the floor. I slipped." He shook his head and winced as he was reminded not to do that. "I didn't even have time to catch myself before I hit the floor. Can't believe I was that clumsy…"

"It happens. You'll be OK."

"The doctor said it would take a few weeks for my arm and my knee to heal. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, McGee. Accidents happen." An odd look crossed Gibbs' face. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I fixed that sink before you moved it. Guess the repair didn't hold."

"Or it could have failed somewhere else. The pipes are old."

Gibbs chuckled at his agent's attempt at diplomacy. "I can take a look at it for you."

"Thanks, Boss."

"I'll need your keys."

Tim let out a soft huff of laughter. "They're probably still hanging by the door. You'll have to get Mikela to let you in." Tim gave Gibbs directions to the greenhouse. "Sorry about all the trouble I've caused."

"It's no trouble, McGee. When are they springing you from here?"

"Not until tomorrow morning, and only if the scans are clear."

Gibbs gave Tim a light pat on the shoulder. "I'll be here. Get some rest."

"Boss, you don't…thanks."

After Gibbs left, Tim closed his eyes. He wondered how he was ever going to get caught up with everything now, and hoped that he would at least heal quickly.

XXX

The following morning the doctor checked Tim over carefully and sent him down for one last CAT scan. When the results showed no abnormalities, Tim breathed a sigh of relief. One less thing to worry about, and the doctor was finally able to give him a stronger pain killer. Tim was returned to his room and was surprised to find Gibbs already waiting.

"Everything OK, McGee?"

"Looks like it. The doctor should be bringing by the release papers pretty soon."

Gibbs set a gym bag on the bed. "Figured you'd need these."

Tim blushed. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs stepped out while the nurse helped Tim get dressed in lightweight sweatpants and a t-shirt. Once his arm was in a sling and the brace was back on his knee, the nurse helped him into a wheelchair for his trip out of the hospital. After a few more minutes, the doctor returned with his paperwork and instructions for home care. Gibbs had returned by that point and he listened to the doctor's instructions as Tim tried to stay focused. Between the painkillers and muscle relaxants he had been given, however, it was not an easy task.

"Any questions?"

"Uh… don't think so." Tim blushed slightly when he realized he had spaced out while the doctor was explaining things. Gibbs chuckled.

"I think we got it, Doc. Thanks."

"I'll see you in a few days, Mr. McGee."

"OK…"

Gibbs grabbed the handles on the wheelchair and steered Tim towards the exit. After a bit of maneuvering, Tim was settled in the front seat of Gibbs' car and they were on their way. Tim wondered how he was going to survive the next few days until he could get around on his own.

"I called Penny. She'll be here tonight to help out."

"Thanks, Boss. Sorry to mess up your day off."

"Don't worry about it."

When they arrived at Tim's house, he was surprised to see his teammate's cars in the driveway.

"What are they doing here, Boss?"

"Couldn't keep them away. You know how Tony is when he gets something in his head."

"Yeah…"

Gibbs had parked the car and was helping Tim out of the passenger's seat when Tony arrived aboard the lawn tractor. Tim just shook his head. Tony never missed a chance to use his favorite toy.

"Hey, Boss. Hey, McWounded. Everything OK?"

"Fine. Help me get him in the house."

"Boss, I…" Gibbs just gave Tim one of his 'why are you being stupid?' looks and he ducked his head. "Sorry."

Tony and Gibbs helped him up the front steps (it was easier than trying to use the crutch he had been given) and once inside Tim directed them to the living room. The original furniture in the room was stiff and formal, but Tim had found a recliner that looked a lot like the older furniture. It was the most comfortable chair in the house, and when they eased him into it he sighed in relief.

"Thanks." He sniffed. "What smells so good?"

"Ziva insisted on cooking for you. I think Abby is helping."

"Timmy!"

"And speak of the devil…"

Abby rushed into the room, obviously intent on hugging the injured man but Gibbs caught her before she could reach him. "Easy, Abbs. Don't think McGee's up to a hug just yet." Tim sent Gibbs a grateful look.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just so happy to see you." She took in his weary appearance. "Shouldn't you be in bed, McGee? You look exhausted."

"I'm fine, Abbs."

"Do you need anything?"

"Coffee?"

Gibbs smirked at the hopeful tone and left as Abby continued to fuss over Tim. "I was so worried…"

"I'll be fine, Abby. It was just a stupid accident. Did Gibbs find the leak?"

"Nope," Gibbs replied as he returned with a steaming mug which he handed to Tim. "Couldn't find where the water came from. Replaced the pipes, just to be sure."

"You didn't have to go through all that trouble, Boss."

"Better safe than sorry, McGee."

"Thanks." Tim took a sip of the coffee and smiled. "That's perfect. Thank you."

"Get some rest."

"I'll try."

"I better finish the lawn. Anything else you need done, McGee?"

"You guys don't have to—"

"We know. But we're doing it anyway. Ziva's making you enough food to feed an army, I think."

"Not quite an army," Ziva replied as she joined them, drying her hands on a towel. "But you should have enough to last until you are on your feet again, McGee. It was the least I could do. Especially since Tony would not let me try the lawn mower."

Tim mouthed 'thank you' to Tony and the older man grinned. "Your hostas are safe, my friend."

"I made sure the household chores were done," Abby proclaimed. "Well, most of them. I didn't get to the rooms upstairs yet."

"It's OK, Abby. You didn't have to do that," Tim responded, fighting back the strange irritation he was feeling. He felt like his home had been invaded, for some off reason, and it wasn't a pleasant sensation. He shook his head, annoyed with himself. _They're only trying to help…_

"I don't mind, Tim."

"Ducky will be here soon to check you out, for his own peace of mind. In the mean time, you should get some rest, McGee."

"I'll try, Ziva. Thanks."

Eventually they all returned to their tasks, leaving Tim alone to try and sleep. Abby checked on him quite often, but otherwise he had a peace and quiet and he managed to doze off. When he awoke, Ducky was there to examine him and after declaring that Tim was doing as well as could be expected, the M.E. regaled him with tales of similar injuries that he had treated over the years. Tim tried to listen, but eventually he drifted off to sleep again.

When he awoke for the second time, Penny had arrived and she fussed over him, explaining the natural remedies she was preparing for him to speed his healing. Mikela arrived to return Maddie to him and the dog spent the rest of the day lying right next to his chair, never letting him out of her sight. He dozed off again, his good hand resting on her head.

When he awoke for the third time, Ziva informed him that dinner was ready and Tony helped him out to the back porch where they all enjoyed the meal and listened to Penny spin tales about Tim's childhood, much to his embarrassment. As the daylight faded, the team bid him goodbye and promised to check on him during the time he was away from work.

The next few days passed in a haze of pain and medicated sleep. Finally, he was recovered enough to get around on his own and would be able to go to work. He convinced Penny that he would be fine and that she could go back to her own place. She made him promise to call every night, or if anything else was wrong. He agreed, and after she left he settled down to the peace and quiet of an empty house. He was surprised to find he had actually missed it.

Tim slowly made it up the stairs, glad to be able to sleep in his own bed again. He made sure the alarm was set, with a little extra time to make up for his slowness. He settled into bed and turned off the light, relieved to be on the path towards normality. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, not noticing the soft noises echoing through the house. If he had, he would have thought they sounded suspiciously like laughter.


	8. Chapter 8 - September

Chapter 8 – September

The oppressive heat that had hung over central Virginia for nearly a month had finally dissipated, allowing Tim to enjoy the late afternoon out on the back porch with his current guests. Jimmy and Breena were lounging in the chairs Gibbs had given him, watching Maddie attempt to herd the flock of wild ducks that had made the pond their home. The couple was just the most recent in the string of visitors he had entertained over the past few weekends. The rest of his team, including Abby and Ducky, had all paid him a visit while he was recovering from his fall. They had all claimed that they were there to see if he needed any help around the house and offered to do any tasks that he could not manage due to his injuries. At first Tim had been touched, and then flattered that his team wanted to help him out, but after so many visits, he had decided that perhaps there was some other motive behind their generosity.

"So, who decided I needed a babysitter on the weekends?" Tim kept his tone light, not wanting to offend his co-worker.

Breena let out a very un-ladylike snort as Jimmy sputtered with embarrassment. "I told you, Jimmy, you can't fool an investigator," she told her husband with a grin. "It was Abby."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Tim replied with a wry smile.

"You know how she is, McGee. Once she sets her mind to something…"

"Yeah, Jimmy, I know, and I do appreciate you all coming down to help out. Really, I do, but it's not necessary."

"We don't mind, Tim."

"I know, and thank you, but I'm sure you really do have better things to do than…help me pick apples." The combined efforts of the three had resulted in three bushels of fruit from the orchard—the collection of gnarled trees near the barn. "And please, take some with you."

"What are you going to do with the rest of them?"

"I don't know. I'll have to look for recipes, I guess."

"You could always make applesauce…or apple butter. That should use up a lot of them," offered Breena. "Do you have a canner?"

"I think there's one in the garage. I remember that my mother used one when I was a kid and there's something similar sitting up on the shelf. What else would I need?"

Breena retreated to the kitchen and returned with a pad of paper and a pen to make a list as she explained the equipment he would need.

"Sounds like I have my project for tomorrow, then."

"We could help…"

Tim sighed. "I appreciate that, Jimmy, but you don't have to make that trip again. I'll be fine."

"But Abby said..."

"I'll handle Abby. I should be cleared for field duty on Monday, so that should help convince her I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"She's just worried, McGee." An odd look crossed Jimmy's face. "Are you sure there's nothing…strange going on with this place?"

Tim let out an exasperated huff of laughter. "Please tell me you're not buying in to Abby's 'ghost' theory." The expression on Jimmy's face told Tim everything he needed to know. "Come on, Jimmy, you're a scientist. You know there's no such thing."

"I wouldn't be too quick to dismiss the idea, McGee. There have been too many sightings and experiences…"

"And no quantifiable scientific data."

"What about paranormal investigators? They use scientific equipment all the time."

"It's pseudoscience. They aren't looking to prove hypotheses. They're only hunting for anomalies to fit their pre-conceived notions of what is 'paranormal'."

"You seem to know a lot about it for someone who doesn't believe in the whole thing."

"Abby has been trying to convince me. I've been looking at it from another angle."

"So I guess you'd never been willing to participate…"

"In what, a ghost hunt?" Tim took in Jimmy's almost eager expression and groaned when he realized how well he'd been played. "Abby put you up to this, didn't she?" Jimmy turned bright red and Breena giggled.

"You know Abby…"

"Yeah, I do. Most of the time, the only way to deal with her is to give her what she wants."

"So you'd really…?"

Tim sighed. "Yes. But if you breathe a word of this to Gibbs or Ducky-"

"You'll ruin my credit rating. Got it. So, wait. You didn't say I couldn't tell Tony or Ziva."

"Because Abby will tell them as soon as she hears the news. She'll tell Gibbs, too, but he won't be as annoyed if she tells him."

"True. When were you planning on doing this? Halloween?"

Tim snorted. "We usually are _working_ on Halloween. Probably the next weekend we're not on call. That will get Abby off my case for awhile, at least."

"And Tony _on_ your case," Jimmy responded with a grin and Tim groaned.

"Yeah, I know. But at least we can settle the question once and for all."

"So you really don't believe..."

"Sorry, Breena."

She just smiled. "It's OK. I'm not sure that I do, either. I try to keep an open mind, though."

Tim merely nodded and lapsed into silence. He thought he had put forth the right level of skepticism, but in reality he was starting to wonder if there really was something unnatural about his residence. The abnormal occurrences which he had previously been able to dismiss had become more numerous and more difficult to reason away. His keys had disappeared several times, only to turn up in the strangest of places; he had come downstairs in the morning to find doors open that he was sure he had closed the night before; and once or twice, lights that he knew he had turned off were on the next morning. More than once, Tim had wondered if he was starting to go crazy. Was the stress of the job finally getting to him? Which was worse, the possibility of diminished mental capacity or the possibility that his house really was haunted? At this point, Tim was not completely sure of the answer.

Of course, Tim had also contemplated the idea that his co-workers were playing pranks, but he was fairly sure that not even Tony was that dedicated, unless he had recruited some local help. Still, Tim doubted his neighbors would be willing to engage in such activities. It was something else he would need to investigate, that was certain.

Tim called Maddie up from the pond before turning to Jimmy and Breena. "I need to go get supplies, but we could go out to dinner. My treat, for coming all the way down here."

"You don't need to treat us, Tim, but we'd be happy to join you. Right, Jimmy?"

"Sure. We can plan the ghost hunt." Tim sent him a look and he grinned sheepishly in return. "I mean…I can plan the hunt."

"Nothing too crazy, OK, Jimmy?"

"OK. We'll just do the basics."

Tim was almost afraid to ask what the 'basics' involved, so he decided to look it up later.

After Maddie was secured in her crate and fed, the trio drove to the store to pick up the materials Tim would need for his first attempt at canning. Loaded down with jars and lids, a 'canning kit' consisting of tongs and a funnel, a stainless steel stockpot and an ample supply of sugar, fruit pectin, and spices, they returned to the parking lot and packed everything into Tim's car before heading for the restaurant. Tim carefully steered the conversation to 'safe' topics as they enjoyed their meal.

After bidding his friends farewell, Tim returned to the house to prepare for the canning project. The pot and rack he had found in the garage needed a thorough scrubbing, and the jars and lids needed to be sterilized, so he packed them into the dishwasher to run through a cycle without detergent. Next he had to deal with the apples themselves, which involved hauling the baskets into the kitchen and sorting though the fruit. The weight of the baskets gave him a little trouble, since although his arm had healed without any complications, he hadn't yet regained all of the strength in it. Finally he managed to get two of the bushels sorted and washed, and he figured that was a good start.

The next morning Tim rose bright and early to get started on his project. After two hours of peeling and slicing, which resulted in a very sore thumb on his dominant hand, he started to think he had bit off a bit more than he could chew. He pressed on, and finally had worked his way through one of the bushels. He decided to leave the second one alone for the time being and started to prepare the first batch of applesauce.

Tim was in the midst of filling the first group of quart-sized jars with the finished product when he heard the doorbell ring. Wondering which of his teammates had decided to pay him a visit, he wiped his hands on a towel and walked down the hall to the front door. When he opened it he was surprised to see Darlene standing there with a paper bag in her arms.

"Hey, Tim. I brought you some tomatoes. They're getting ripe faster than we can process them."

Tim smiled and opened the door wider to allow her to pass through. "Thanks. I understand, I'm dealing with the apple crop at the moment."

"Really? Need some help?" She headed for the kitchen and Tim followed.

"Thanks, but if you're busy with your own canning…"

"It's not a problem. Jeff and J.J. have taken over the kitchen. They're making salsa, and I can't stand to be in the same room when they're cleaning the jalapeños. I'd be happy to help you." She set the bag on the floor next to the fridge, since the counters were all occupied. "Let me call Julia and she can help as well. It's generally not a good idea to let both my kids work in the same kitchen, so I can avoid the normal bloodshed," she replied with a wink.

"OK. Thanks."

She surveyed the kitchen and chuckled. "You've got your work cut out for you. I think you're going to need more jars, though. Let me go pick them up for you and I'll bring Julia back with me, then we can all get to work."

"I never expected there would be this much to do…and I've still got apples that need to be picked. How did my great-aunt deal with all of this?"

"Well, she probably gave half the crop to Rufus. It's some sort of family agreement, I think."

"Oh…I guess I should talk to him. I need to anyway, since I'm sure he knows who to talk to about getting the house painted. That still needs to be done." Tim blushed. "It sort of slipped my mind, with everything else that's been going on."

"Believe me, I understand." She patted his shoulder. "I'll be back ASAP."

After she left, Tim returned to his task. He had just finished taking the first batch out of the canner when Darlene and Julia returned. Soon they had worked out a process and each went about their tasks. By the end of the afternoon the kitchen counters were covered with jars full of apple sauce, preserves, and pie filling. The apple butter was still simmering away, but Tim was pretty sure he could handle the last batch on canning on his own.

"Thank you both. I don't think I could have done this without your help."

Darlene laughed. "Next time you'll know to do a little at a time. That's what makes it bearable."

"Can you imagine doing this in the old days?" Julia asked with a giggle. "It would take forever."

"It certainly gives you an appreciation for modern conveniences," Tim remarked. "But…it was kind of fun, too."

"You have a strange sense of fun, Mr. McGee."

"So I've been told, Julia. So I've been told."

They helped him finish cleaning up and, loaded down with still cooling jars of processed fruit, mother and daughter headed for their car. Once they were gone, Tim sagged into one of the kitchen chairs and looked around, one very troubling thought passing through his mind, which he unconsciously spoke aloud.

"What am I going to do with all of these jars?"

XXX

Tim stepped off the elevator with a perceptible bounce in his step and made his way to his desk. He had been re-certified for firearms (he had managed to ignore the slight twinge in his arm after finishing his test) and had been cleared for field-duty by Ducky. It looked to be a good day indeed.

None of his team was currently at their desks, so Tim sat down at his own desk and checked his email. Task complete, he rose from his chair, removed three jars from the extra bag he carried and set one on each of his co-workers' desks. He had already distributed jars to Ducky and Palmer, which left one more to give to Abby. He decided to wait until the rest of his team arrived before going to visit her and talking about what he and Jimmy had discussed that weekend. Then he supposed he'd have to prepare himself for Tony's reaction, but he was ready for the teasing. It would be a nice change from his team treating him like he would break.

Tim returned to his desk and started working through the batch of requests he had received that morning. He was nearly finished when Tony's voice broke his concentration.

"What's this, McGee?"

He looked up to see Tony holding the jar with a slightly worried expression on his face.

"Applesauce."

"Why is there a jar of applesauce on my desk?"

"Because I gave it to you. I made it."

"Why did you make applesauce?"

"I had a lot of apples to use up."

"OK…Is it edible?"

Tim chuckled. "Yes, Tony, it's edible. And you're welcome."

"Thanks, McDomestic. Now I see how you keep out of trouble on weekends."

"I thought you all were already making sure I stay out of trouble on the weekends."

Tony looked a bit abashed. "We weren't…"

"It's OK. I appreciate the gesture, but I'm a big boy, Tony. I can look after myself."

"That sling and knee brace you were wearing for a few weeks says differently, McKlutz."

"I had an accident. It happens. End of discussion."

"Good. Then you can get back to work."

"Sorry, Boss."

"McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Thanks for the applesauce."

Tim nodded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks, and returned to his work. Ziva soon arrived, asking similar questions about the jar on her desk, but merely thanked him when he told her what it was. The group continued to work on their respective tasks for the next two hours and Tim decided it was time to take a break. He grabbed the extra bag and headed down to Abby's lab. She ran to him and hugged him as soon as he walked through the door.

"What was that for?"

"Jimmy said you're going to let us investigate your house. I'm so glad you've become a believer."

"Never said I believed, Abbs."

"Then why?"

_Mainly to get you guys off my case…_

"Because I figured this is the best way to show you there's nothing there."

She punched his arm, but with less force than she normally would have used. "Why are you such a skeptic, McGee?"

Tim sighed. He really wasn't in the mood to have this argument again. "That doesn't matter. But after this, I expect the subject to be closed to discussion. Alright?"

"Whatever you say, Timmy."

He left the bag on her desk and went back to the bullpen. Tony was sitting at his own desk, feet propped up, with the jar in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"This is pretty good, McGee. Got any more?"

Tim chuckled. "Plenty."

XXX

The rest of the day had passed uneventfully (aside from Tony's teasing about the 'hunt'), and Gibbs dismissed them at a reasonable hour. Tim arrived home to find scaffolding set up at the front of his house, and when he stepped out of the car, Rufus Bridgier climbed down from the scaffolding to greet Tim.

"Darlene said ye needed the house painted," he stated before Tim could even ask a question. "Should be done by the end of next week. Gotta scrape the old stuff off first, ye know."

"You're not doing all this by yourself, are you?"

"Done it before. No problem. Sorry 'bout the mess."

"It's OK. I wasn't expecting it to be done so soon."

"Best to be done before the rains start."

"Oh, of course."

"Anythin' else ye need?"

"Not really. Just…"

"Jes what?"

"I'd, uh, like to know a little more about the history of the house."

Bridgier considered Tim's request for a moment. "Miranda."

"Excuse me?"

"Miranda Frost. She's the local historian. Also the librarian. She'll point ye in the right direction." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather battered pocket watch. "Library closes in an hour."

"Thanks." Tim went in to let Maddie out of her crate and took her down to the kennel, promising her a game of fetch when he returned. He climbed back in his car and headed for the library.

The Fisher's Cove Historical Society and Public Library was located in the center of the small town, a relic of the days when the area had been home to several affluent Old Virginia families who had supported the construction of a building that reflected the importance of the records held within. The building was still well maintained, but the lack of patrons Tim saw when he entered hinted at the decline of the facility's importance within the community. Instead of school-aged children working on projects or searching for sources, or amateur historians tracking down a minute but important detail for their own chronicles, the main room was empty save for the middle-aged woman behind the front desk. She looked up as he approached and smiled.

"May I help you?"

"Are you Miranda Frost?"

"I am. What do you need?"

"I was told that you're the person to talk to about local history. I'm interested in finding out more about the Fisher House."

"You're Tim McGee, correct? Cassandra's great-nephew. You're living at the house now."

"Uh, yes. How did you…?"

"Mr. Pomeroy mentioned that you have moved in. What sort of information do you need?"

"I'd like to know more about the people who lived there. I'm afraid I didn't have much contact with my great-uncle's family, so my knowledge of the history of the family is limited."

"I see. Well, I have several books that should give you plenty of information about the early history of the house. We were also lucky to have been gifted with several heirlooms from the family, including the family bible. It's back in the archive if you'd like to see it."

"Sure. That would be great."

"May I ask, why the sudden interest? You have been living there for several months already…"

"I really haven't had time to look before now."

"Oh, of course. Forgive me for being too forward."

"It's OK."

She tilted her head and studied him for a moment, a gesture which, when combined with her appearance, strongly reminded him of his mother. "You know, you look very familiar to me. Are you an author?"

Tim blushed and ducked his head slightly. "Yes. I've published a book or two."

She tilted her head to the other side and, after a few more moments of scrutiny, she smiled. "Thom E. Gemcity."

Tim nodded as he felt the color rise in his cheeks. "Afraid so."

"My daughter loves your books. I must admit, they are quite entertaining. Wherever do you get your ideas?"

"It's kind of a long story."

She checked her watch and winced. "Yes, I'm sorry, and you wanted to get the information. Follow me." She led him back to a hallway which opened up to a small foyer. A desk sat in front of a bank of windows, and beyond the windows he could see a room lined with cabinets. Miranda wrote something in a ledger which sat on the desk and then she unlocked the door to the windowed room. Once inside, she opened a small cabinet and removed two pairs of white cotton gloves. She put one pair on and handed the other to Tim before walking over to one of the larger cabinets. She opened a drawer and carefully removed a leather bound book, which she placed on a sheet of paper on the central table.

"Please be careful with this. It's the original family bible brought over from England in 1701, and the entries date back to the early 1600's." She opened the front cover and pointed to the barely legible hand-written entries. "We intend to make copies of this to preserve for future use, but the funding hasn't been made available yet. Right now this is the only copy we have."

"Understood. I'll be careful."

"No pens are allowed in the archive. There are pencils and paper for recording information. Please keep them away from the book as much as possible."

"Got it."

"No flash photography, either," she added with a smile and Tim gave her a weak one in return.

"OK."

"The library closes in forty minutes. If you need more time, let me know."

"Thank you."

Miranda left, closing the door behind her, and Tim started to read the first page of the book. It had a list of _Marriages, Births_, and _Deaths_, so Tim decided to check on the most recent marriage listed.

_Douglas Andrew Fisher III to Cassandra Elizabeth Langston, May 24__th__, 1948._

He made a note of that and checked the Deaths section to see if the records had been kept up to his great-uncle's demise, and found that they had.

_Douglas Andrew Fisher III, October 28, 1993._

His eyes started to travel up the page and he stopped as he read the previous two entries, his forehead creased in confusion.

_Douglas Andrew Fisher IV, April 22, 1968, Que Son Valley, Vietnam. _

_Daniel Allen Fisher, May 25__th__, 1972. Annapolis, Maryland._

Tim felt a chill down his spine. He went and checked the list of births and found the corresponding entries.

_Douglas Andrew Fisher IV, March 3rd, 1949. _

_Daniel Allen Fisher, May 26__th__, 1954. _

Tim stared in disbelief. He had two cousins that he had never even known about. Why had Penny never mentioned them? He looked at the date of Daniel's death again and felt another chill. It was the same day as his father's graduation from the Naval Academy.

More disturbed than he cared to admit, Tim pulled out his cell phone and snapped pictures of each of the pages. He made sure the writing was visible in each shot before he tucked the phone back in his pocket and carefully closed the book. He returned to the front desk where Miranda was waiting.

"Done?"

"For tonight. I was wondering if you knew anything about the family? Personally, I mean."

"Well, I grew up here. I remember the last generation. Sad, really, what happened to those boys."

"One died in Vietnam?"

"Yes. Andy. He went by his middle name, you see. Of course you know that. He was your cousin, right?"

"Yes, of course. My family…really didn't like to talk about it."

"I understand. He was such a nice boy. All of them were. They never teased us younger girls like some of the others would."

"All of them?"

"Yes. Andy, John, and Danny. John was their cousin." She sent him a strange look. "Your father. He never mentioned…?"

"As I said, my family didn't like to talk about it."

"Oh, of course. My apologies."

"So, my father and cousins were…close?"

"Oh, yes. Like brothers. After Andy was killed, Danny really looked up to John. He was so proud of him for making it into the Naval Academy." Her expression sobered. "Danny was on his way to John's graduation when he was killed. Drunk driver. Terrible tragedy."

"Yeah, I can imagine…"

"I never saw John down here after the funeral. I guess he was busy, though, being a Navy officer and all."

"Yes. Yes, he was."

"Are you all right? You look…upset."

Tim managed a smile. "Fine. Just…old memories."

"Right, of course. Is there anything else you need?"

"Not at the moment. I left the book on the table. I figured you'd want it put away correctly."

"Yes, thank you. If you need any more information—"

"I'll know who to ask. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Frost."

"You're quite welcome…Mr. Gemcity." She gave him a wink and he smiled thinly in return before walking out the door and heading for his car. Once inside he paused, going over the information in his head. Why hadn't anyone mentioned his cousins, and his father's relationship to them? How much of what had happened had shaped the man his father had become? And why, in light of John's connection to her son's death, would Cassandra have given Tim his current home?


	9. Chapter 9 - October

More Than a Heap of Stones

Chapter 9 – October

The old oak trees were just beginning to show a bit of fall color when Tim finally received some answers to his questions. He had tried to call Penny and ask her more about his family history, but she had been away on a retreat requiring no contact with the outside world. Tim wasn't about to call his father and ask him, and he doubted that his mother would know since if she had she would have told him. That meant he had to wait for Penny to rejoin civilization.

In the meantime, Tim had studied the images he had take of the family bible, and had a list of names to run down in his quest to know more about the former residents of the house. One thing he discovered is that there was a long tradition of military service in the family, although few had made a career out of it. His great uncle had served in Korea for two years, from 1951 until 1953, after which he returned to his family and started his architecture firm. Douglas's father, Douglas Fisher, Jr., had served in World War II for less than a year, and has been sent home after losing his lower left leg in battle. He had died a few months after his son and Cassandra had been married. Douglas's mother, Alice, had outlived her husband by ten years, succumbing to a stroke just a few months before her fiftieth birthday. Douglas Jr.'s brother, George Fisher, had also served in the war but had not made it home. The family records noted that he had been killed during the Battle of Iwo Jima, although the specific date of his death was not recorded. Tim remembered the veteran of that battle he had met during a case and wondered if the two men had ever had contact.

The original Douglas Fisher, the last to be buried in the family plot, had served in World War I. He had been the second eldest of four boys, one of which (James Marshall Fisher, Jr.) had died when he was a toddler. The others, Henry Jacob and Mathew Edward, had both lived to adulthood, but Mathew had not made it home from war and Henry had apparently moved out west after the war was over, being too young to serve at the time. He had died when he was barely fifty, and the location was listed as simply '_California'_. Douglas' wife, Mary Watkins, had outlived her husband by only a few months.

James Marshall Fisher, Sr. and his elder brother Edward Jr. had not served in any war, but had stayed in Virginia and shared the family home. James was a doctor and Edward was a lawyer. Edward had never married or fathered children (legitimately, at least), which explained why the family home had been passed to the younger son. Their sister, Elizabeth Ann, had died when she was a teenager, although no cause was listed.

Captain Edward Joseph Fisher, Sr. had served in the Confederate Army, the last family member to achieve an officer's rank. He had escaped the fate that fell to two of his brothers, Elijah and Zachariah. Both of whom had fought in the Battle of Gettysburg. Elijah had been wounded and made it home, only to die a few months later, while Zachariah had been killed on the battlefield. Edward's first wife, Sarah Sheridan, had died in childbirth. He outlived his second wife, Emily Parker, by five years.

Patrick Wallace Fisher had managed to avoid military service, it seemed. His brothers, Elias Martin and Nathan Richard, had left home together to settle in Ohio. His sister Ruth Ann had married a local farmer named Theophilus Smith. His sister Judith Marie had died when she was five. His wife, Margaret Forrest, outlived him by fifteen years.

Abraham Elias Fisher, the first child born in the house, had served in the War of 1812. His brother Michael Allan had died as an infant, along with his three-year-old sister Abigail, his four-year-old sister Bridget and his six-year-old brother Jeremiah. His youngest brother, Albert, had taken up trapping and had moved to the western part of the state, where he had apparently been killed by a rival trapper. Abraham's only surviving sister, Maureen, had married Nicholas Irving, the captain of a shipping vessel, and had moved to the coast, near Norfolk.

The man who had built the house, Augustus Fisher, had fought in the Revolutionary War and had attained the rank of Lieutenant. His second wife, Alma Sibley, had died soon after their son Albert had been born. His first wife, Elise Polk, had died before the house had been completed, and was the first person to be buried in the family plot.

Armed with this information (as well as a long sleeves and gloves to protect him from poison ivy), Tim had examined the graves in the family plot to see if there were any not accounted for in the records he had. He found three tombstones that did not belong to the family: Josiah Bridgier, buried next to James, who had died just a few months after his neighbor; Mary Sibley, whom Tim determined was a younger sister of Augustus' second wife who had died during the epidemic that claimed three of the couple's children; and a small stone at the outer edge of the plot with only a single name, _Grace_, and the years of her birth and death. The young woman had died at the age of 17 in 1799.

Knowing who had lived there before him gave Tim more of a connection to the house, and a better understanding of its history. Also, with a complete list of the house's former residents, Tim would have the power to refute whatever "evidence" his friends might dig up during their ghost hunt, particularly if they claimed to know the names of the entities they obviously believed were present in the house.

Tim was reading over his notes once again when his phone rang. He checked the number and sighed in relief. _Finally…_

"Hello, Penny. Thank you for calling me back."

"_Of course I would return your call, Timothy. You sounded so worried. What's wrong?"_

"Tell me about Andy and Danny Fisher."

A few moments of silence passed before Penny replied, her tone thick with forced humor. _"Always the investigator, Timothy."_

"But why did I have to investigate? Why didn't anyone ever mention-?"

"_My sister never wanted to discuss it, and I respected her wishes."_

"And my father? He never mentioned he had two cousins that were like his brothers…or so I've been told."

"_Timothy, this is really a conversation that should held face-to-face."_

"Please, Penny, just tell me." A few moments of silence followed before he heard her sigh.

"_What you were told is true: Andrew and Daniel were like brothers to John…and like sons to me."_

Tim felt a rush of guilt. "I'm sorry, Penny, I didn't mean—"

"_I know, Timothy."_ He heard a soft chuckle. _"You're more like your father than you realize. Once you get an idea into your head… Now, as I was saying, those three boys were inseparable. John spent most of his summers at the Fisher's." Tim heard another soft chuckle. "The trouble they used to get into… Andrew was just a year older than John, and they both treated Daniel as the 'little brother'. John and Andrew were both set on joining the military, but Nelson insisted that his son would go to the Academy first."_

"So Andy joined the Marines right out of high school, and was sent to Vietnam."

"_Yes. When he was killed…well, John was almost ready to defy your grandfather and quit the Academy so he could go over there right away, but Nelson was able to talk him down."_ She cleared her throat._ "Andrew's death was one of the reasons I joined the Telles Group. I wanted to help stop the war before John had to go."_

"What about Danny? Was he planning on joining, too?"

"_No, he wasn't. Daniel had been accepted to Cal-Tech to study electrical engineering. He always said he was going to help fight the war with brains, not brawn."_

"I know he died on the same day as Dad's graduation. What happened?"

"_The whole family was on their way to Annapolis when Douglas's car was hit by a drunk driver. Douglas's car didn't have a rear seat belt, and…well, you can imagine."_

"So if they hadn't been going to Dad's graduation…"

"_No, Timothy, you cannot think like that. They all wanted to be there to support your father. They didn't blame him for what happened."_

"Did he blame himself? Is that why he never mentioned any of this?"

Penny sighed. _"Yes, I believe he did. You see, your father changed a lot after that happened. At first I thought it was the Academy that had changed him, but looking back…he became much… well, I hate to use this term for my own son, but he was colder after that incident. You must understand, he lost two of the people closest to him, and he felt responsible for both. Guilt makes us do strange things."_

"So he built a wall so he wouldn't get close to anyone again. Not even…"

"_Timothy."_

"No, I get it." He sighed and rubbed his eyes as he tried to ignore the stinging behind them.

"_My sister tried to talk to him many times. She tried to talk to him about his treatment of you as well, but…"  
_

"Dad's never been one for listening. Not as long as I've known him."

"_I am sorry, Timothy. I'm sorry you didn't get to know that man he was before. But I stand by what I said: your father does love you—"_

"—he just doesn't know how to show it. And now I know what made him forget how." Penny remained silent. "Why did Aunt Cassandra leave me this house, Penny?"

"_Because she wanted you to have it."_

"Why?"

"_There was no ulterior motive, if that's what you're thinking. Not because of guilt. Not because you reminded her of Daniel…which I suppose you did. She loved __**you**__, Timothy. My sister and I may have been quite different in many respects, but there is one thing we agree on completely. We both love you for who you are. She wanted you to have a home, to know the joy and security that brings. No other reason."_

"OK…"

"_Sweetheart, you need to let this go. Nothing good comes from digging up the past."_ She chuckled softly. _"You've seen the results of that, as I well know. Take her gift as it was meant to be received. Alright?"_

"OK. Thanks, Penny."

"_You're quite welcome. Now the next time you call me with such urgency, make it good news, OK? I'm not getting any younger…"  
_

"Penny!"

She laughed. _"I knew that would distract you. Now, how is everything else? Are you happy with the house?"_

"It's…fine. It's been a lot of work, but... I've been enjoying it, surprised to say."

"_I'm glad to hear it. You know if you need anything, I'm always happy to help."_

"I know. Thank you. I think I have everything under control for now."

"_I'm happy for you, Sweetheart. My offer still stands, though."_

"OK."

"_Now I wish I could talk longer, but I'm meeting up with an old friend in about an hour and I need to get freshened up. Let me know when you have some time off and I'll come down to visit."_

"I will. I'm looking forward to it."

They said their goodbyes and when the call disconnected Tim went over what he had learned in his mind. He wasn't sure he accepted Penny's reasoning behind his father's behavior, but it was something to think about. He felt marginally better, at least, and decided he would need some time to come completely to terms with what had happened. If he ever did.

XXX

The team was not on call the next weekend, so Abby cajoled Tim into agreeing to finally host a 'paranormal investigation' that Saturday night. Of course that meant that Friday night and Saturday morning Tim was busy getting his house ready for guests, and some of the additional research he had wanted to do had to be put aside.

By Saturday evening the house was clean and Tim had prepared himself for his home to be invaded. He had asked Tony to pick up the pizza from the place in town on his way in, promising to pay him back. He had a supply of soda and beer already chilling in a cooler on the back porch, as well as the components for a salad and two pans of hot wings in the refrigerator to pop in the oven when his guests arrived.

Ziva had claimed a prior engagement and Breena had to work, so only Jimmy, Abby, and Tony would be participating in the hunt. Gibbs knew about it, of course, but despite Abby's attempts to get him to join, he too had claimed a prior commitment (and the look he gave Tim suggested they all needed to _be_ committed). Ducky had said he was too old for midnight capers and would be enjoying a weekend of rest instead. Tim suspected Ducky would be hearing the details of what happened from Jimmy on Monday.

Tim was sitting in the parlor, reading a book on Civil-War era medicine, when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the first of his guests. He stuck his bookmark in the book where he had stopped reading, placed the book on the table under the small reading lamp, and rose from his chair to go answer the door.

"_Hurry up, McGee! The pizzas are getting cold."_ Tony's voice was audible as soon as Tim stepped into the hallway. He unlocked the door and stepped aside so Tony could enter the house.

"Thanks for picking those up, Tony."

"No problem, but are you sure this will be enough?"

"I have other stuff to go with them, don't worry."

Tony carried the pizzas to the kitchen where he set them on the counter and then looked around the kitchen. "Where's my McMaddie?"

Tim had to smile at that. Trust Tony to give even the dog a nickname. "Mikela has her. She entered Maddie in a cluster of dog shows, and she's hoping to get a couple of qualifying scores towards the first obedience title."

"Ah, Mom has custody, then."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Just for the weekend."

"Too bad. She might have been useful for this hunt. Aren't dogs supposed to be sensitive to ghosts?" Tony asked with a rather wicked grin on his face.

"I don't even want to know where you picked up that bit of information."

"Abby."

"Of course." Tim turned the oven on to pre-heat it and took the trays of wings out of the refrigerator. He pulled out the bags of lettuce and other raw vegetables as well as the dressings for the salad, then started to chop everything into bite-sized pieces before assembling the mixture in individual bowls. Tony watched for a few minutes before chuckling softly.

"What?"

"You're really getting into this domestic thing."

"And that's bad because…?"

"Never said it was bad. Just different. Sometimes it's easy to forget we can have semi-normal lives outside work."

Tim smiled as he replied. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He put the wings in the oven before resuming his task. "Beer's on the back porch. Help yourself."

"Thanks." Tony exited the kitchen and returned a few moments later, two beers in hand. He opened one and set in on the counter next to Tim before opening the other and taking a swig.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Tim finished making the salads and had started to pull out plates and silverware when the doorbell rang again.

"I'll get it." Tony left the kitchen again and soon returned with Abby and Jimmy in tow. Jimmy had a large canvas bag over his shoulder and was carrying two metal cases of the sort used for camera equipment. Abby was carrying another case and several extension cords.

"What's all this?"

"The basics. Don't worry, it won't take too long to set up."

"I'll take your word for it. You can put that stuff in the living room. Dinner's almost ready, and the drinks are on the back porch in the cooler."

"Need any help with anything?"

"No, I've got it." He pulled out two large cookie sheets and transferred the pizzas to them before sticking them in the oven to warm back up a bit. Finally, everything was hot and ready, and the group filled their plates before heading into the dining room.

After they had been eating for a few minutes, Tim decided to satisfy his curiosity. "So tell me, what's considered the 'basics' for one of these, uh, investigations?"

Jimmy grinned like a kid at Christmas. "Well, we've got the full spectrum cameras and lights for both video and still cameras, Mel-meters, digital recorders for EVPs, and some good old-fashioned dowsing rods. Oh, and my buddy lent me his spirit box. I'm eager to try that since I've never used one before."

Tim glanced at Tony, who looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh as he asked his own questions. "Spirit box? Mel-meter? EVPs? What language are you speaking, Palmer?" Abby reached over and smacked his arm. "Hey!"

"EVPs are 'electronic voice phenomena', or voices that are heard only on recordings," Jimmy explained. "A Mel-meter measures changes in temperature and EMF –electromagnetic frequencies—that many people believe signal the presence of ghosts. A spirit box is like EVP but the words are heard in real time rather than on the recording play-back."

Tim just shook his head. "EMF fluctuations can be caused by power lines. EVPs are _audio paradolia_, or your brain trying to match a speech pattern to random noise."

"Sounds like someone did some research. I thought you were going to keep an open mind, McGee."

"'Open' does not mean I'm going into this blindly, Abby. If we actually get real evidence, I won't dismiss it, but—"

"But your definition of 'real' is going to be pretty strict."

"Yep."

"So what kind of evidence are we looking for, and how did you get into this, anyway, Palmer?" Tony asked.

"A buddy of mine from high school got into it and he invited me along on one of his group's investigations. It's just a hobby for me, really. He was a little disappointed he couldn't join me on this hunt, but I figured McGee wouldn't go for the whole group showing up for this."

"You figured right," Tim replied with a smirk.

"Anyway, we're looking for evidence of an intelligent haunting—"

"There are dumb hauntings?" Tony snarked, earning him another smack from Abby.

"Intelligent as opposed to a residual haunting, which is sort of like a short movie clip played over and over, caused by lingering emotions of a traumatic event. An intelligent haunting is one that responds to questions or requests."

"'Give us a sign of your presence' type stuff?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"Sounds like fun. How do we start?"

"I'll check the house with one of the Mel-meters to get a baseline, and then we'll walk around until we find a spot where there are big fluctuations that weren't there before. Then we'll take still pictures, video, and recordings. If we get anything weird, we'll try to find a normal explanation – reflections, drafts, stuff like that—and if there's no other reason for it, that could be considered evidence of a haunting. We'll also set up video camera in areas with previously observed activity."

"Except there hasn't _been_ any activity."

"You've had weird stuff happen in the kitchen, McGee. And the laundry room, right?"

"Not _that_ weird, Abby."

"Cabinet doors opening by themselves and weird leaks are normal?"

"Explainable, yes."

"What about the toys in the sink?"

Tim sighed. "OK, fine, you win. That was a little weird. If you want to set up a camera in the laundry room, go ahead."

"We have two more cameras. What are some other places that have had stuff happen?"

"The guest room upstairs," Abby immediately declared and they all turned to look at her.

"Something happened up there? When?" Tony asked.

"Abby had a nightmare when she stayed there the first time, that's all." That earned Tim a smack on the arm.

"It didn't feel like just a nightmare, McGee."

"Sounds like a good enough reason to me to put a camera there," Jimmy replied, and Tim got the impression that he was trying to mollify Abby more than anything.

"Fine. Where else?"

"How about the basement? I don't think I've ever been down there, but basements are always spooky, right?" Tony asked with a grin.

"It has a dirt floor and is kind of dusty. Won't that interfere?"

"Probably. We can go down and check. Have you spent much time down there?"

"No reason to, really."

"What's down there?"

"A cistern. There's also a brick-lined culvert that leads to a dry well. I imagine they used it to keep food cool before refrigeration."

An odd look crossed Jimmy's face. "It may have had other uses as well."

"Like what?" Tony wanted to know.

"Uh…storing dead bodies until the ground thawed enough to bury them."

"Lovely," Tim muttered.

"Sounds like a great place to start," Abby exclaimed, obviously excited by the prospect.

"Let's get the other stuff set up first. Do you want to split up into pairs or go as a group?"

"Group. We can keep better track of what everyone is doing that way," Tim replied. "And we'll have a better grasp on what's authentic and what's a prank."

"Why are you all looking at me?" Tony asked.

"Because you're the prankster."

"Hey, I can be serious. If there's something here that can hurt McGee…or any of us, really, I want to know."

Tim sighed. "I really don't think you have to worry about that, Tony."

"Whatever you say, McSpooky."

Tim just shook his head. "Anybody want more pizza? Or should we get started?"

Tony opted for another slice and a couple more hot wings while Abby and Jimmy went to get the EMF baseline and to set up the equipment. By the time Tim had finished cleaning up, they were ready to start.

Jimmy gave Tim a LED flashlight and a small digital voice recorder and put Tony in charge of the Mel-meter while he manned the video camera and full spectrum lights. Abby had a still camera and lights as well as a small device, about the size of a calculator, which Jimmy identified as the Spirit Box. They decided to start in the basement so Tim led the way after he had turned out the rest of the lights in the house, as per Jimmy's instructions. When they reached the bottom of the steps Tim headed for the culvert he had mentioned earlier. Jimmy instructed Tony to scan it with the Mel-meter and he ran video, but there were no fluctuations.

"It's kind of creepy," Abby commented as she looked around the stark space. "I see why you don't like it down here."

"Actually, Maddie is the one who doesn't like it. Doesn't really bother me," Tim replied, hoping they wouldn't notice the lie.

"How do you know she doesn't like it if you never come down here?" Tony asked.

"Back in June, there was a tornado warning. I decided to wait it out in the basement, and Maddie really didn't want to come down here. I figured it was probably the storm more than anything, though."

"How did she act?" Jimmy wanted to know.

"Nervous, I guess. She almost pulled me down trying to get back up the steps after the storm passed." Tim decided not to mention what he had thought he heard. It had just been his imagination, right?

"Huh. Too bad she's not here, we could check and see how she acts when there's no storm around."

"Sorry. That was out of my hands."

"Mom has custody this weekend," Tony grinned and Tim rolled his eyes.

"Still not funny, Tony."

Jimmy just shook his head and started to walk around the room, watching where he was going through the viewfinder of his camera. "You mind turning the light off, Tim? We'll go to night vision."

"No problem." Tim switched off the flashlight, plunging the rest of them into darkness. Soon Jimmy finished his circuit and sat down on the bench. "You want to try for some EVPs?"

"Sure, why not?" Tim flipped the switch on the recorder while Abby set down her camera and turned on the Spirit Box. There was a soft hum of white noise from the Box, but otherwise the room was silent.

"OK. There are, uh, four of us here. Jimmy, that's me. Abby…"

"Right here."

"Tony…"

"Present and accounted for."

"And Tim."

"Here."

"Is there anyone else here with us?" Jimmy paused and they all listened, but the only thing they heard was the hiss of white noise from the Box. "If you're here, can you let us know? Tell us your name."

Nothing.

"I don't think they're feeling chatty tonight, Palmer."

"They really don't like skeptics, Tony."

"Sorry."

Jimmy resumed speaking to the recorder. "We'd like to talk to you. Can you tell us why you're here? What happened to keep you stuck in this place?"

No answer.

"Did you mean to hurt Tim?" Abby asked. "Did you make him fall and hurt his knee?"

There was a hitch in the hiss coming from the Box, but Tim couldn't make out anything other than that.

"Was that an answer?" Tony asked.

"I don't know. Didn't sound like anything to me. We can check the recording later."

"Right."

"If you have something you want to tell us, speak into the little box Tim is holding, or the one Abby is holding. We'd like to hear your story."

Nothing but static was heard from the Box, and Tim sighed. "I don't think this is working, Jimmy."

"It doesn't always work on the first try. We can always come back down, later."

"Fine." Tim turned on his light and headed for the stairs, with the rest soon following. The next room they visited was the laundry room. Jimmy repeated the process of checking the room before inviting any spirits in residence to communicate, with similar disappointing – to Abby and Jimmy, at least – results.

They repeated the process in every room downstairs, again with the same results before heading upstairs. Tim gritted his teeth while they checked out his bedroom and ignored Tony's jibes that he knew the room was a waste of time since nothing _ever_ happened in there. Jimmy checked Tim's computer room and suggested that there would be too much electrical interference to even try in there, so finally they ended up in the guest bedroom.

Abby looked around the room with apprehension while Jimmy checked the camera he had placed there earlier. It still seemed to be working, so he turned his own camera off and took the recorder from Tim. After he had done the standard introduction, he began his questions.

"Is there someone here with us, now? Tell us your name."

There was a stutter of noise from the Box, and they all turned to the object in Jimmy's hand, holding their collective breath and waiting for more.

"What is your name?" Nothing. "How long have you been here?"

"Did you cause my nightmare?" Abby asked, and again the hiss of white noise from the Box stuttered a bit, but they couldn't make out the words.

"Did you try to hurt Tim?" Tony asked. There was no change this time. "Guess not."

"Can you give us any sign of your presence?" Jimmy asked. "We want to help you. If you don't want us to be here, tell us." Nothing.

"Guess this room is a bust, too," Tim commented dryly. "See, Abby? Nothing to worry about."

"Still not sleeping in here, tonight."

"Well there are plenty of other places to sleep in this house." He could almost feel the grin on Tony's face, even in the darkness. "You know what I mean."

"Right, OK. Let's get back to this, shall we?"

"Sounds good to me, Jimmy. Where to now?"

"I'd like to check the recordings. I brought a laptop with a program that will clean up the background noise and help us find any EVPS."

"Sounds like a plan. Let's go."

After Jimmy put a new data card in the video camera, they all trouped back downstairs to the laundry room where he retrieved the data card from the other camera and then they returned to the dining room. Jimmy went out to his car to retrieve the laptop while Tony went into the kitchen to snag a piece of cold pizza from the refrigerator, and as soon as Jimmy returned he started to work on the recordings. He plugged a set of headphones into the laptop to listen and paused when he came to one section of the data, and puzzled look crossing his face. He went back and listened again before he handed the headphones to Tim.

"What does this sound like to you?"

Tim placed the headphones over his ears and listened carefully as Jimmy re-played the recording.

"_We'd like to talk to you. Can you tell us why you're here? What happened to keep you stuck in this place?"_

"_Did you mean to hurt Tim? Did you make him fall and hurt his knee?"_

…_sorry…_

"_Was that an answer?" _

"_I don't know. Didn't sound like anything to me. We can check the recording later."_

Tim felt a chill as he turned to Jimmy. "Can you play it again?"

Jimmy obliged and Tim concentrated on the voices.

"_Did you mean to hurt Tim? Did you make him fall and hurt his knee?"_

…_sorry…_

He turned to Jimmy. "It, uh, sounds like…"

"'Sorry'?"

"Yeah."

"Let me hear it."

Tim handed the headphones to Tony as Jimmy turned the recording back to the right spot. Tony's eyes widened as he listened.

"Whoa. That's…creepy." He turned to Tim and gave him a half-hearted grin. "Look on the bright side, Probie: it doesn't sound like it wanted to hurt you. It even apologized." Abby waved her hand at Tony, indicating she wanted to listen as well. Palmer played it for her, and she duplicated Tony's reaction. Tony gave Tim a 'we told you so' look and Tim sighed.

"Doesn't prove anything, Tony."

"Keep telling yourself that, McSkeptic. Is there anything else, Palmer?"

"I'll keep checking." He reclaimed the headphones from Abby and listened to the rest of the recording as she scanned through the video. There was nothing unusual on the camera's recording, but finally Jimmy stopped the voice recording and looked up at Tim.

"I think I found something else. Tell me what you hear." He handed Tim the headphones and re-set the recording again as Tim put the headphones over his ears.

"_Is there someone here with us, now? Tell us your name."_

…_Grace…_

Another chill ran down Tim's spine. Jimmy noticed his expression and looked at him with concern.

"What did you hear? A name?"

"Yeah. It sounded like…Grace."

"Does that mean something to you?" Tony signaled for the headphones and Tim absently handed them to him.

"I've seen that name associated with the property."

Jimmy grinned. "Cool. Sounds like real evidence to me."

Tony listened to the tape and then handed the headphones off to Abby. "Where did you see the name?"

"It's on one of the stones in the cemetery Jimmy found. Not a family member, but there was no last name, so I don't know who she was exactly." Tim glanced around at his friends who were watching him with concern. "Could be a coincidence."

"How long have you been on Gibbs' team, McGee? You should know by now there's no such thing as coincidences."

"No such thing as ghosts, either, Tony."

"I don't know, Tim, that sounds like pretty good proof to me. Or are you still going to claim it's that audio-parabola thing?"

"_Audio paradolia._ It still could be that, you know."

Abby let out a huff of disgust. "Come on, McGee. You heard it, we all heard the same thing, and it made sense."

"OK, fine. We heard something. Still doesn't mean there's not a rational explanation for it." He turned to Jimmy. "Did you find anything else?"

"No, I didn't. Abby?"

"No," she replied, sounding very disappointed. "But that doesn't mean we won't. We'll leave the other cameras on for the rest of the night. Maybe something will show up."

"Maybe."

"I don't know about the rest of you all, but ghost-hunting wears me out. I'm ready to turn in."

"Dibbs on the downstairs guest room," Abby called, and they all laughed.

"I'll sleep in the upstairs guest room. It doesn't bother me a bit," Jimmy declared, and Tim chuckled.

"OK, that's settled. Tony?"

"Couch in the computer room. It's surprisingly comfy."

Tony, Jimmy, and Abby all headed out to their cars to retrieve their overnight bags and, after one more check of the cameras, they all retired for the evening.

Much to Tim's relief, there were no disturbances that night. The next morning Jimmy checked the cameras again, which still showed nothing. Feeling slightly vindicated, Tim bid his guests goodbye and checked his ever-present "To Do List" for a project to occupy him for the rest of the weekend.

Tim endured a bit of teasing on Monday, but a new case soon distracted his teammates and they worked nearly non-stop until the middle of the following week, when the case was finally resolved. After the paperwork was done Gibbs released them and Tony walked out with Tim.

"I know we don't have costumes and might be a bit out of place, but maybe we can still go out for drinks."

"Costumes? Oh, yeah, it's Halloween. I thought you hated this holiday?"

"It has its perks. So, drinks? Maybe some karaoke? That should be scary enough to get us in the spirit."

"Thanks, but I'm good. I'm just going to go home and get some sleep."

"In your haunted house?"

Tim sighed. "You and I both know that's nonsense. I let Abby and Jimmy have their fun, and now I just want to put the whole thing to rest."

"I don't think it works that way, but I guess you can try." They reached the parking lot and Tony clapped Tim on his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Good night, Tony."

Tony grinned and trotted off as Tim turned and headed towards his own car. He managed to make it out of the city without too much trouble and started for home. After picking Maddie up at Mikela's and grabbing a few items at the local grocery store for dinner, he finally made it to his own driveway and turned off the main road. As he approached the house, Maddie sat up in the back seat, whined a little, and then barked, surprising Tim enough that he almost drove of the blacktop.

"Stop that," he instructed as soon as his heartbeat had slowed a little and he had started driving once more. "I know you're excited to be home at a reasonable hour, but—" She barked again and Tim saw that she was staring up at the house. He slowed the car to a halt and looked in the direction Maddie was staring. His breath caught in his throat when he finally saw what had her attention.

There was a human figure in one of the upstairs windows.

Tim immediately got out of the car for a better look and saw that it appeared to be a young woman, dressed in white, with long, strawberry-blond hair. Convinced that one of the neighborhood kids was playing a joke, he ran for the front door, hoping to catch the intruder and give them a strong lesson on the folly of trespassing. He reached the front door, unlocked it and then slammed it behind him as he ran up the stairs, expecting to meet his visitor on or near the top, but the area was unoccupied. He dashed to the end of the hallway and threw open the door, ready to confront the intruder.

The room was empty.

He checked all the rooms on the second floor before running back down the stairs. The front door was still shut, so he checked all the rooms on the first floor and all of the doors, which were still locked. He checked the basement, and finding it empty as well he returned to the front door and checked outside. He went out to his car to release Maddie and took one more look up at the window. The figure had returned. He stared at it for a moment and then, to his horror, it vanished into thin air, as if it had never been there at all.


	10. Chapter 10 - November

Chapter 10 – November

Tim dropped into his desk chair with barely a minute to spare before the start of normal work hours. He immediately started to check his email, hoping to keep his mind off the strange events of the previous night and the lack of sleep that had resulted from them.

"Morning, McTardy," Tony said with a grin when he noticed Tim's arrival. "Rough night?"

Tim ignored him and scanned through the day's batch of notices and requests. He made a few notes and got started on those with the highest priority while waiting for Gibbs to return from his early morning coffee run, or wherever he was at the moment. Before Tony could start harassing him further, Ziva arrived and they went through their normal morning banter.

Normal. Something Tim feared would not apply to his life ever again. He had spent half the night searching the house from top to bottom, and then the property, praying for a rational explanation for what he had witnessed. He hadn't found a single sign of an intruder, nor any electronics that could have been used to produce the image he had seen. Finally he was forced to question his own health and sanity, a position in which he remained until the next morning.

"Are you alright, McGee?"

Tim looked up to see both Ziva and Tony standing in front of his desk, watching him with concern.

"Why?"

"You have been very quiet this morning, more so than usual. Is something wrong?"

Suddenly he had an idea. "Yeah, to be honest, I'm not feeling all that great this morning. Not sure if it's the start of the flu, or…maybe something I ate didn't agree with me."

"Go see Ducky, McGee," Gibbs ordered as he joined Tony and Ziva.

"Yeah. We need to know if you're contagious," Tony added and received an elbow in the gut from Ziva. "Ow!"

"You do not look well, McGee. Gibbs is correct, you should have Ducky check you over."

Tim sighed, although he was relieved that he had successfully passed off the lie. "OK, fine. I'll be back as soon as he's done with me." He stood and headed for Autopsy, thankful to have the opportunity to resolve at least one question – whether or not there was something physically wrong that would account for his hallucination the night before.

Ducky's eyebrows rose in surprise as Tim entered Autopsy and when the agent explained why he was there the older man nodded.

"Hop up on the table here, Timothy, and I'll check you over. You do look a bit run down. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"Couldn't sleep last night at all. I'm not sure what's wrong with me."

Ducky applied the blood pressure cuff to Tim's arm and took a reading. "A bit low, but nothing that couldn't be accounted for considering your exhaustion." He popped a thermometer in Tim's mouth and checked his pulse before feeling Tim's neck and checking his pupil reaction and reflexes. When the thermometer beeped, he removed it and checked the reading. "No fever, nor any other signs of viral infection. What did you eat last night?" Tim tried to remember and finally had to admit that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch yesterday. "Well then that could explain why you're not feeling up to par." Ducky pointed to his office. "Join me for a cup of tea and I'll see if I have anything on hand to help an empty stomach."

"Thanks, Ducky, but I should-."

"Nonsense. You're no good to yourself or the team until you deal with your deficit."

"OK."

Tim followed Ducky to his office and waited while the M.E. prepared a pot of tea and found something for the two of them to eat. After nibbling on some thick crackers - more like cookies, really – and drinking a cup of sweetened tea Tim had to admit he did feel a bit better, but there was still the question of what he had seen.

"Can I ask you a question, Ducky?"

"Yes, Timothy, you may."

"Do you…do you know of any medical condition that could, uh, cause people to see things?"

"Several. Why?" He cocked his head, bird-like, and studied the younger man. "Have you seen something you can't account for?"

Tim felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"My dear boy, doctor-patient privilege is something I will always honor. For my living patients, that is."

"Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean…" Ducky chuckled softly. "Right. Well, I…last night, when I got home, I thought I saw…someone standing in the window. I checked the whole house, but no one was there, and when I went out again, I saw it again…and then it disappeared right before my eyes. I thought for sure it was a prank, but I couldn't find anything to account for it…and Maddie saw it, too. At least, I thought she did, but maybe…"

"Last night, you say?" Tim nodded and Ducky pondered for a moment. "Are you familiar with the Celtic holiday of Samhain, Timothy?"

Surprised by the abrupt change of topic, Tim took a few moments to respond. "That's like…the predecessor of Halloween, right?"

"Yes, the current traditions were derived from ancient ones, which were overtaken and changed in the drive by early Christian missionaries to wipe out paganism. Samhain was observed at the end of harvest, around November 1st, and was said to be the day when the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead was at its thinnest…and that the dead could mix with the living as those who had died during that year passed to the next world on that night."

"Ducky, you're talking about ghosts…Did Abby…?"

"Of course not. What I am trying to tell you, Timothy, is that some things simply cannot be explained according to our modern perceptions."

"Or maybe I'm just crazy."

Ducky patted his knee. "I think of you as one of the sanest of my acquaintances, Timothy. As I was saying, during my time on this Earth, I, too have seen things that cannot be explained, no matter how hard I tried. I decided that I could choose to question my own sanity, as you are obviously doing, or I could simply accept the fact that we do not know all there is to know about this world…or the next." He grinned. "As Author Conan Doyle once penned, '_when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth_'. You've discovered an improbability, Timothy. Not insanity."

"I hope you're right…about the insanity, I mean. But what about…?"

"You're an investigator. Find the source, and you may find a solution."

Tim sighed. "I can try. You promise you won't tell anyone else about this? Not even Gibbs?"

"My lips are sealed. Now, are you feeling up to returning to work?"

"I guess. If nothing else, it will keep my mind off of…"

"I understand. And do try to get some rest tonight, Timothy. The barrier should be thicker now."

Tim managed a weak smile in response to the older man's joke. "I'll try. Thanks for the tea."

"My pleasure, lad."

Tim headed back to his desk and when he arrived all three of his team were waiting for him.

"Well?" Gibbs barked.

"Fine, Boss. Cleared for duty."

"Good. Grab your gear. Dead Marine at Quantico."

Tim nodded and hurried to grab his backpack before following his team…and enjoying routine, at least for the time being.

XXX

The dead Marine turned out to be a rather straightforward homicide – multiple witnesses and a quick confession – so the team was granted a full weekend off. Tim drove home ahead of a gathering storm that was being pushed through by a massive cold front which dropped the temperature twenty degrees and dumped several inches of rain over the area by the next morning.

When he arrived home, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, and Tim took Maddie out for a quick walk – shortened due to the approaching storm. He fixed himself a simple dinner before heading to the parlor to finish the book he had been reading back before the ghost hunt, hoping it would keep his mind occupied. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was where he had left it and settled down in the chair to read.

The next time he looked up he was surprised to see that it was near midnight. The wind was blowing hard enough to make the house creak a little and the rain slammed against the siding, making enough noise to have broken his concentration on the book he was reading. He also noticed a distinct chill to the air and remembered that he hadn't yet turned on the furnace. He marked the page he had been reading in the book, and got up to deal with the need for heat.

After setting the thermostat at a conservative level, he grabbed his coat and Maddie's leash and went to release his dog from her crate for her bedtime walk. One look outside and she immediately headed back to her crate.

"Come on, you don't want to hold it all night, do you?"

Finally she let him pull her from the crate and out the side door to the porch. The wind whipped around them, sending a chill straight through Tim's thin jacket, and he winced as he reminded himself to get a warmer coat for their nightly outings. Maddie went right to the edge of the porch, keeping herself covered as much as possible, and did her business. Tim just shook his head.

"You're supposed to be a working dog, living outside with the herd in all weather, and you can't stand a little rain?" On cue, a gust of wind send a sudden squall of rain crashing against Tim, soaking his back. "Great…"

Maddie quickly finished and ran to the door, stopping to shake and soaking Tim from the other side. He grumbled at her and she just grinned up at him in return before grabbing an old towel from the stack on top of her crate and rolling on it to dry herself off. Tim chuckled at her antics before removing his coat and hanging it on the rack to dry. The room was still cold, and he noticed that the heat vent was closed. He opened it, but nothing came out. He moved to the kitchen and checked the vent in there, which was letting out a stream of warm air.

Tim grumbled a few choice words before carrying Maddie's crate, bowl, and a dry towel into the kitchen and shutting the laundry room door. He re-filled the bowl and put the dry towel in the crate, then coaxed Maddie inside before shutting and latching the door. She made a nest of the towel before curling up in the center of it and closing her eyes.

After a hot shower to chase away the chill Tim got ready for bed. He climbed under the covers, switched off the light, and rested his head on the pillow, already nearly asleep. He had just reached the edge of sleep when he heard howling coming from the kitchen.

He jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, almost afraid of what he would see, but the light only revealed Maddie staring at him rather reproachfully.

"What? Don't tell me you want to go out again."

She shivered slightly, and Tim had to agree that even with the heat it was a bit chilly down here. With a sigh he opened the door to let her out, picked up her bowl and the crate and carried them upstairs, with Maddie following along behind him and grinning in her usual way. He got the crate set up in his room and put her inside before climbing back under the covers and turning off the light, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

A few hours later something yanked him from unconsciousness and he froze for a few moments, trying to figure out what it was. Soon he realized that there was a presence in his bed, pressing up against is back. Cautiously he moved his hand to the space behind him and encountered a body…a warm, _furry_ body.

"Maddie?" A swipe of a wet tongue on his face confirmed (he seriously hoped) the identity of his bedmate. "How did you get out of your crate?" He reached over and turned on the light before sitting up to look across the room. The crate was where he had left it but the door was standing wide open. He rolled over to look at his companion, who seemed quite pleased with herself.

"Have you been taking lessons from Harry?" She just woofed softly and snuggled closer. Tim sighed. "OK, fine, just for tonight. Don't get used to it, though. Understood?" She gave him a doggie grin before burying her nose under his pillow. Laughing softly to himself, Tim turned off the light and went back to sleep.

When he woke the next morning, he noticed that it was _really_ cold in his room. He climbed out of bed, wincing as his feet came into contact with the frigid floor, and went downstairs to check the thermostat: Forty-five degrees Fahrenheit.

_Crap…_

Tim found his shoes and headed for the basement to go check the furnace and breaker box. When he flipped on the light, he was horrified to discover that there were several inches of water covering the basement floor. He swore loudly, which brought Maddie dashing downstairs. She gave him a puzzled look and then headed for the laundry room door where she stopped and looked up at him expectantly.

Glad to see that the storm had passed, Tim took Maddie out to her kennel and went back inside to call his neighbor, hoping she could give him a good recommendation for someone who could fix his current problem. After a quick call and a round of sympathetic reassurances, he called the number she had given him and described the problem. The voice on the other end assured him that someone would be out within an hour.

After Tim got dressed in the warmest clothing he had, he went out to the porch and gathered a load of firewood, thankfully quite dry, and got a fire started in the hearth in the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and sat down to wait, making a mental note to ask about getting enough firewood for the winter, and soon.

Within the stated amount of time, the plumber-slash-electrician, who introduced himself as Donny, arrived and Tim directed him to the basement. He glanced around before going back to his truck for a pair of rubber boots, a long extension cord, some black rubber hose, and a strange-looking object Tim recognized as a bilge pump.

"Gotta get the water out first. Dunno why the pump in the cistern ain't working, that shoulda kept the basement from flooding." He waded through the water to the small window set high in the basement wall and opened it. He threaded the hose out of the window before connecting it to the bilge pump and immersed the pump in what appeared to be the deepest water in the basement. He then connected the plug to the extension cord, ran it over a few rafters to keep it out of the water and then unwound it up the stairs where he plugged in into a kitchen outlet. After checking to make sure the end of the hose was far enough away from the window, he went back down to the basement and soon Tim could hear the pump running.

"That will need to run for a couple a' hours. I'm betting the water fried the motor on the furnace fan and it will need to be replaced. I'll be back with a new one by the time the water's pumped out. You'll probably need a new pump for the cistern, too."

Tim winced as he imagined the bill for the work and the Saturday service call but thanked the man for coming out on such short notice.

"No problem. Saved me from driving my wife to a craft fair." Donny grinned, tipped his ball-cap and left. Tim went to the kitchen, re-filled his coffee cup, and sat down to work out his monthly budget to account for the newest expense. After a few minutes, he started to laugh. It was almost comforting to have a _normal_ problem with his house after all the recent weirdness. Almost.

XXX

"So, McGee, are you hosting Thanksgiving this year?"

Startled by the question, Tim looked up from the bullet casing he had been photographing and answered his partner. "I hadn't planned on it, Tony. I figured Ducky would do the honors since he seems to enjoy doing it."

"Indeed I do, Timothy. I'm offering my invitations early, this year, hopefully before you all have made other plans," Ducky remarked as he continued his examination of the body. "I'm not too late, am I?"

"Nope, no plans yet. Just hope we don't catch a case the day before like we usually do."

"I hope we're not still working on _this_ one," commented Gibbs as he crouched down next to the body, causing Tony and Tim to quickly return to their tasks. "What have we got, Duck?"

Ducky started to explain his findings to Gibbs as the rest of the team moved off to deal with the rest of the scene. Tim was feeling a bit of relief after Ducky's invitation. He really wasn't up to hosting another get together just yet.

"So how are things down at the old homestead?" Tony asked as Ziva joined them on the other side of the room.

"Other than the basement flooding and the both the cistern pump and furnace fan burning out because of that, fine. I'm hoping to get my firewood supply in this weekend, since the heating system in the house really isn't that great anyway." He glanced up at Tony who had a rather eager look on his face. "Mr. Bridgier…Rufus is going to show me the ropes, so I don't think I'm going to need any other help."

"You sure, McLumberjack?"

"You were just waiting to use that, weren't you?" Tony just smirked. "If I do need help, I'll call."

"You would trust Tony with an axe?" Ziva asked with an amused tone.

"Nah, Probie's high tech. Chainsaw, right?"

"I don't know. Rufus is supplying the equipment, and trust me, _he's_ not high tech. The man doesn't even have a phone."

"Oh. Hey, maybe you'll get to use one of those old two-person saws."

"A cross cut saw?" Tim winced at the real possibility of such an activity. "I hope not. If that's the case I may go rent a chainsaw or something."

"If you do, be careful. I have heard that those can be very dangerous."

Tim nodded and winced again. Ziva was right, and he had seen pictures to back up that idea, courtesy of Abby and the _Journal of Forensic Sciences_. Maybe he should let the expert handle it after all.

They finished up the scene and returned to the Yard to continue the investigation, which took up the rest of the week. By Friday they had their chief suspect in custody. A few minutes in Gibbs' interrogation room and the man caved, leaving the team to wrap up the final paperwork by the end of the work day.

Deciding to break his habit of going straight home after work, Tim agreed to join Tony and Ziva for drinks, although he only allowed himself a small glass of wine. He had a long drive home, after all. Tim found he was enjoying himself, and briefly wondered if he perhaps needed to get away from home more often. It did seem like he spent all of his time either at work or working on his house and surrounding property. Maybe he needed a break…or a vacation.

Tim chortled softly to himself at his own line of thought. He didn't have _time_ for a vacation. He had too much to do at home…

XXX

The rumble of an old engine woke Tim the next morning and he looked out his bedroom window to see a vintage 1950's pickup pull up in front of the house, towing a trailer behind it which held a small Bobcat skid steer and another strange-looking contraption that Tim did not recognize. He checked his bedside clock and groaned. Apparently Rufus believed in getting an early start.

Tim quickly got dressed in old but warm clothes and headed downstairs to deal with his usual morning chores. After Maddie was ensconced in her kennel, he walked out to the front of the house to greet his helper.

"Mornin'," Rufus called cheerfully when Tim came into view and snorted softly when he took in the agent's disheveled appearance. "Looks like someone ain't had their mornin' coffee yet."

"No, sorry, I didn't realize you'd be here this early."

"T'ain't that early, ye know. Go on, go get yer coffee. I ken wait a bit."

"Thanks. Would you like some?"

"Never touch the stuff."

"Oh, sorry."

Rufus just waved him off and Tim went back into the house to brew a pot of his caffeine-heavy blend.

Feeling better after finishing his coffee and a light breakfast, Tim went back outside to see what the old man was up to. Rufus was using the Bobcat to drag a large log out of the woods, where it soon joined a pile of other similar-sized dead trees. Rufus waved at Tim when he saw him approaching before turning of the engine and climbing out of the Bobcat.

"Figured I'd get the dead fall out first, then we ken deal with the trees still standin'. Marked a bunch earlier this year."

"OK. What do you need me to do?"

"Right now, jes' stay out of the way of the Bobcat. If ye want ye ken trim the little branches off fer kindlin'. There's a cutter in the truck. Ye'll want gloves, too."

"Right, of course." Tim dug out a pair of work gloves from a box in the garage and retrieved the shears from the truck. By the time Rufus had pulled out the last dead tree, Tim had the small branched clipped off, chopped up, and piled high in the kindling box on the back porch.

"Ye should be set with the small stuff," Rufus commented, "so now fer the logs. Ye ever used a chainsaw before?"

"No, sorry."

"Alright. I better handle that one. Ye ever used a log splitter before?"

Tim blushed. "No."

Rufus chuckled. "Well now ye'll learn. Pretty easy, actually." Rufus drove the Bobcat back up to the driveway and, with Tim's help, got the log splitter off the trailer. He hooked it up to the Bobcat and pulled it down to the trees.

"Ye jes put the log here," he indicated a platform in front of a rather wicked looking wedge, "and crank it down." He went to get a log from the porch and demonstrated. Tim watched as the log split neatly in two with seemingly little effort. "Stack the wood in the bucket o' the Bobcat when yer done."

"How much wood will I need for the whole winter?"

"Well, that depends. Ye gonna heat the whole house or jes a few rooms?"

"Probably just a few rooms."

Rufus nodded. "They's callin' fer a bad winter, ye know." He surveyed the pile. "This'll probably do it. Got about four cord right here, an' ye got a bunch o' wood stacked already. The dead trees'll need ta season fer a year or so, but this stuff ye can probably burn right away."

"OK."

Rufus reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of ear plugs. "Ye'll want these while I'm usin' the saw."

"Thanks." Tim inserted the ear plugs and watched as Rufus started to cut up the first tree. When he had finished, Tim retrieved the first cut log and put it on the splitter. It took a little more effort to crank the handle than he expected, but the first log split and he felt a small surge of pride at his accomplishment. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

"Ye need ta split each piece again. Should get four chunks per big log," Rufus yelled so Tim could hear him through the ear plugs.

"Got it."

They each set about their tasks and by lunch time Rufus had made several trips with the Bobcat, bucket full of split logs, up to the porch where he and Tim stacked them in one of the log racks. Tim was almost wishing he had accepted Tony's help by the time they had made it half-way through the pile of dead fall.

"Big job," commented Tim while he and Rufus were taking a break.

"Yep. Better if ye spread it out over a couple a' weekends. Guess yer schedule won't allow that."

"No, not really."

"Any other big projects ye got in mind?"

"Not at the moment." Tim smiled ruefully when he remembered Abby's comment. "Next spring, probably. A friend said I should have a garden, but I don't think I'll have time to deal with that."

"Ye could do raised beds. That's what Cassandra did 'fore she moved out west, and Alice afore her. Small plot, easy to care fer, not much weeding or stuff like that. Ye ken set that up now, be ready fer spring plantin'."

Tim sensed another hit to his bank account and sighed. "Not sure I can afford it with everything else."

"I ken put one together for next ta nothin', really. Ye can try it and see."

"Oh, OK, thanks."

"No problem. Give me somethin' ta do next weekend."

"OK." Something Rufus said sparked a question. "You've worked for the family for a long time, then?"

"Yep. Bridgiers have been workin' for Fishers since the Civil War. Great-great-grandaddy Josiah saved Edward Fisher's life in the War, earned himself job and a plot next to Ed in the family cemetery, and the families have been tied ever since. Was right scandalous at the time, though."

"Why?"

"'cause Josiah was the grandson of a freed slave. Fishers never had slaves themselves, mind ye. Made them an oddity 'round these parts, at least fer rich land-owners."

"Really? Any idea why?"

"Nope. They never declared themselves as abolitionists, but some had their suspicions. Relied on paid help instead, though at the beginning I suspect there weren't much difference."

"Indentured servants?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Oh." Realizing he had an apparent good source for the family history, Tim decided to try and figure out a few more things. "Sounds like you know about the skeletons in the closets," he continued with a smile to show he wasn't trying to offend.

Rufus snorted. "Ye could say that." He studied Tim for a moment and then chuckled. "Yer a bit unsettled about this house, ain't ye? Ye've seen…nay, not jes seen. Ye've experienced somethin' in the house an' it's got ye wonderin'."

"What do you mean?" Tim tried to hide his surprise (and embarrassment) but Rufus grinned.

"Yer great-aunt had that same look, first year she lived here. Thought she was losin' her mind. Let me guess: stuff's been moved around, doors left open, noises ye can't explain. Am I right so far?" Tim nodded mutely, afraid to ask what else he might experience. "Ye seen something, too? Some_one_?"

"How…?"

"Like ye said, I know about the skeletons. Stories passed down, not in the 'official' records. I'll tell ye the same thing I told Cassandra: they don't mean no harm, just need ta know you realize theys there."

"'They'?"

"Spirits." Tim started to protest but Rufus cut him off. "Now don't go tellin' me they can't exist. Been around way too long, seen things ye wouldn't believe. But theys there."

"Who are they, then?"

"Well, that's been debated. Could be a couple a' little kids that didn't make it past their early years. Most people who've lived here think the mischief is them. Stuff moving around an' all."

"Could they have made the sink leak? That wasn't harmless."

"Might'a. But like I said, they don't mean ta hurt anyone. Jes want attention."

"Oh."

"They ain't the only ones there, though. Folks talk about the one in tha basement, walks around. They think it might be one o' the kids that died in the winter, an' they had ta wait ta bury 'em. And then there's the one people seen. She ain't a little kid, that's fer sure. "

"No. No, she wasn't." Tim realized what he had said and blushed deeply while Rufus just chuckled.

"So much fer not believin'. Ye saw a young woman with reddish blonde hair, I'm guessin'."

"Yeah," Tim admitted. "I thought it had to be a hallucination…still not sure it wasn't."

"Twasn't. That was Grace."

Tim felt a chill run down his spine. "Grace? There's a tombstone with that name in the family cemetery. Are you sure someone didn't use that as a basis for a legend?"

"Nope. Grace's story is known, an' true."

"So what was her story?"

"She was just off the boat from Ireland, came to Virginia ta work for any family that would take her. Her own family was still in the old country, ye understand. First winter here she caught the consumption."

"Tuberculosis?"

"That's the stuff. She didn't last long. Fishers still saw fit ta bury her in the family plot. Guess they was good folks, even back then."

"I guess so. So why do…people think it's her?"

"Augustus kept a journal, an' he described her. Accordin' to folks who have seen her, the description fits." He studied Tim. "As fer why she's still here, I got no idea. What I _do_ know is only to folks who ain't Fishers by blood, like yer great-aunt and ye, are the ones that see her."

"What can I do to…?"

"Get rid of her? Ye can't. Accept that. Tell her ye accept her, and she'll calm down. Once she calms down, the rest do, too. At least that's the story."

"That's it?"

"Well, they might act up ev'ry once in a while. Can't have an old house wit' out ghosts, ye know." Rufus winked and Tim managed a weak chuckle.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Ye do that. Now we better get back ta work. Lots left to do."

"Isn't there always?" Tim muttered and Rufus clapped him on the back.

"Yep. There is."

XXX

It was dark by the time Rufus had the trailer loaded again, and Tim was exhausted. He offered to fix dinner for the two of them but Rufus declined, claiming he had something waiting for him at home. After he left, Tim fed Maddie, then went upstairs to get a shower and got dressed to go out to dinner. Other than the pizza place, there was only one other restaurant in town, a little mom-and-pop style place that had decent food - plain but filling – and Tim enjoyed the meal mainly because he didn't have to cook it.

On his way home he thought about what Rufus had said. If he could accept idea that his house was home to several entities, would it really be that easy to solve the problem? He debated back in forth between the suspicion that Rufus was just pulling his leg and that the man's advice was sincere. Granted, he didn't know the man well enough to be sure that he had been serious, but his gut instinct told him that the man was generally honest. He just gave off that type of vibe.

Of course, Tim mused, he could just be crazy. Or maybe Tim himself was crazy. But Ducky hadn't questioned his sanity, so maybe…

Tim shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. Maybe it was time to trust his instinct and try what Rufus had suggested. It couldn't hurt, right?

When he reached his house, Tim parked his car in the garage and went to release Maddie from her crate that he had moved back to the laundry room. She seemed a little apprehensive, but once he had the leash clipped to her collar she relaxed and headed for the door. Once outside he set off at a brisk walk, allowing her to stretch her muscles and hopefully wear her out so they could both get a good night's sleep.

One the way back, Tim kept an eye on the house, especially the upstairs guest room window. When they were only a few yards from the house, he caught movement in the window and stopped. The curtain had shifted slightly from the center, leaving a bit of a gap that hadn't been there before. Tim took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to do.

After securing Maddie in her crate, he made his way to the upper level and down the hall to the guest room. When he opened the door he immediately noticed a strange feeling in the room, a sense of tension, or perhaps anticipation. Feeling more than a little foolish, he shut the door and walked to the center of the room.

"OK," he began, and paused, not quite sure how to continue. "Uh, Grace? I know you are here. I…accept that you are here, but please…can you, uh, tone it down a bit? You have my attention now, and…I'd really just like a little peace and quiet. Can you do that? Please? Ask the others to…stop with the pranks. I accept their presence, too."

The strange feeling started to dissipate and Tim felt a sense of calm settle over him, followed by a profound sadness. So many young lives cut short. It wasn't fair, really.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. OK? I really am."

As he stood there, the feeling of sadness started to dissipate. Finally the atmosphere of the room seemed lighter. Almost normal.

"OK. Thank you. I…I appreciate your cooperation." He left the room and headed back downstairs to make sure all of the doors were locked, all of the cabinet doors were firmly shut, and everything was in its proper place. He then went back upstairs and got ready for bed, the work he had done that day finally catching up to him as he climbed under the covers. He turned off the light and waited. The house was silent, and the sensation he had experienced since Halloween night, the fear that something inexplicable was going to happen, started to fade.

As he drifted off to sleep, several questions passed through his mind: Had it worked? Had he managed to calm the restless spirits that share his home with a simple request? Was he really going to be able to reside here in peace?

Only time would tell.


	11. Chapter 11 - December

More Than a Heap of Stones

Chapter 11 – December

Tim settled into his favorite chair as he raised the footrest and let out a contented sigh, enjoying the warmth of the fire he had built in the living room fireplace. It was nice to not have any chores for once and he could enjoy a real day off, something he hadn't had in a long time. His plans for the day included catching up on his reading and finishing off the last of the leftovers Ducky had sent home with him after Thanksgiving dinner with the team. Other than that, he hoped to just relax and enjoy the peace and quiet he had experienced at home for the past few weeks.

Rufus's suggestion had apparently worked. The strange incidents that he had lived with and generally tried to ignore since he had moved into the house had lessened considerably. There might be the occasional dog toy found someone other than its normal place, or other non-important objects moved from one place to another, but the more annoying pranks had not made a re-appearance since his 'talk' with the other residents of the house.

Tim had wondered several times if the surprisingly easy resolution of the problem was merely an indication that it had all been in his head to begin with, but every time he entertained that train of thought something occurred to remind him that he wasn't completely alone in the house. Finally he had just decided to accept it since apparently there wasn't much he could do about it beyond what he had already attempted.

He had almost finished the chapter he was reading when he heard the doorbell ring, followed by a flurry of knocks at the front door. Maddie raised her head and gave a short bark, then started to wiggle her butt as a voice reached Tim's ears.

"Open up, McGee!"

He rose from the chair and went to open the front door where he was greeted by the sight of Abby, dressed in work boots, overalls, and a plaid barn coat, standing on his front porch with a large box in her arms.

"Abby, what are you doing here?" he asked as he took the box from her and opened the door wider to allow her to enter the hallway. "And what is this?"

"Christmas decorations," she replied with a grin and Tim bit back a groan.

"Abby, I'm really not into the whole decorating thing."

"Yeah, I know, which is why I'm going to help. I have a bunch more stuff in the car."

"How much stuff? And what exactly did you bring?"

"Greenery, mostly. Wreathes, garland, swags, stuff like that."

"Won't that be a fire hazard?"

She punched him lightly on the arm. "No, it will go outside. I have the artificial stuff to decorate in here, but don't worry. It looks really real, so it will look more like historical decorations and will fit in with the house better."

"I'll take your word for it. What do you need me to do?"

"Well, I think we should do the outside decorations first, and then we can set up the tree inside."

"You know I'm allergic to pine, Abbs…"

"Yes, I know Tim. Don't worry, I got you an artificial one. My church was given a new tree so I claimed the old one for you." She reached out and put both hands on his shoulders. "McGee, you have a house now, a real home, and a real home needs to be decorated for the holidays. I'll even help you clean up after they're over. Deal?"

"OK, deal. But nothing too gaudy, alright?"

"You wound me, Timmy. I'd never do that to this old place. It would upset the natural balance."

"Whatever you say, Abby."

She gave him a brief hug before taking the box from him and carrying it into the living room.

"Where do you want to put the tree?"

Tim thought about that for a few moments before replying. "In here, I guess. That's the traditional place, right? I just want it as far away from the fireplace as possible."

"We can put it next to the door, then." She turned to study the dark stained-wood secretary desk that occupied that space. "Do you have someplace else for this?"

"I'll have to do some re-arranging, but yeah, I can find a place for it."

"OK, that's settled. Now go get ready so we can work on the outside. You have a ladder, right?"

"It's in the barn, handing on hooks on the south wall."

"Got it. Now go, get dressed."

Tim sighed. "OK." He went upstairs to put on a sweatshirt of over the long-sleeved t-shirt he was already wearing, and replaced his slippers with thick socks and his own pair of work-boots. When he returned to the living room, Abby was rubbing Maddie's belly, and the dog looked so content he hated to interrupt them.

"Ready to go." He held up Maddie's leash and she immediately jumped to her feet and ran over to sit in front of him, an expectant look on her face.

"She can stay with us, right?"

"She'll probably be better off in the kennel…at least for now. I'll meet you at the barn."

Once he had his dog secure in her kennel he went down to the barn to help Abby carry the extension ladder back up to the house, where she set it up between the first two upstairs windows on the left side of the house. He was surprised to see Gibbs' truck in the driveway instead of her hotrod.

"Gibbs let you drive down here by yourself in his truck?"

"Yep. He was busy making toys for the children's hospital, otherwise he would have come, too." Tim tried to imagine Gibbs decorating and couldn't quite picture it. He decided Gibbs had given Abby the best excuse he could to avoid the chore.

She went to the truck and retrieved another box from the front seat. The box contained several small pine wreaths, a big roll of two-inch-wide red ribbon with gold edging, scissors, and a small roll of wire. Abby cut a yard-long length of the ribbon from the roll and a couple short pieces of the wire, then took the piece of ribbon and threaded one end through the center of the wreath to form a long loop. She wired the ends of the loop together and climbed up the ladder to affix the end of the loop to the top of the first window so the wreath was hanging near the center of the window with the red ribbon holding it in place.

"What do you think?" she called down from her perch near the top of the ladder.

"Looks good. Are you going to do that for all of the windows?"

"Just the ones in the front and the sides."

"OK."

Abby climbed down the ladder and Tim helped her prepare the rest of the wreaths for the windows. When they were in all place she retrieved several pine branch swags, enough for each window. The swags were decorated with wheat sprays, apples, nuts, and strange-looking multi-holed pods. After they had attached the swags to the windowsills, Abby brought out a bag of pine roping from the bed of the truck and they wrapped it around the two columns and draped it across the top of the front porch. Finally, she brought out a larger wreath, adorned with apples, oranges, magnolia leaves, and cinnamon sticks. She used another length of ribbon and wire to hang it on the front door before turning to Tim.

"Well?"

"I like it. It looks like the decorations they have in colonial Williamsburg."

Abby grinned. "That's where I got the idea. I looked at pictures on their website and found something I thought you'd like."

He kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Abbs. You really didn't have to go to all this trouble, though."

"I didn't mind. This is fun. I'm not allowed to use real greenery at my apartment, so…"

Tim chuckled. "Understood. Now what?"

"Let's take the tree inside."

They pulled the long box from the bed of the truck and carried in to the living room. After re-arranging the furniture to make space for the new addition and retrieving a step ladder from the garage, Abby started pulling the pieces of the artificial tree out of the box and laid them out for easy assembly. Once she had found the base pieces, she put them together and they started to assemble the tree. Tim was pleased to find that the white lights were already part of the tree – he remembered how much of a pain it was to string lights- and was surprised at how big the tree actually was. It reached almost to the top of the room's 9-foot ceiling and took up most of the space they had cleared for it.

"Do you have enough ornaments to cover this?"

"I should. If we run low we can always go get some…but it might be hard to find any that go with the rest." Before he could ask what she meant by that she headed back out to the truck and soon returned with yet another box.

"Where did you get all of this stuff?"

"I've been collecting it for you, ever since you told us about the house. I bought a few things at a time, here and there. I figured that wouldn't be as bad as having to buy everything at once, plus I found some real treasures." She opened the box and pulled out a long string of small red wooden beads, studied them for a moment, and grinned. "You know, if you have popcorn, I've got needles and thread, and we can make another garland to go with this one."

Tim shook his head. "I don't think edible decorations are a good idea with a dog in the house."

Abby giggled. "True."

"Also probably not a good idea to put any ornaments that resemble any of her toys within reach."

That earned him a mock salute. "Aye, aye, captain!" Abby replied with a smirk and Tim just rolled his eyes. They started decorating the tree, first with the garland and then with the collection of ornaments Abby had brought. One box contained a number of gilded pine cones, decorated with red or green gingham bows. He raised an eyebrow when he saw them and Abby noticed his confusion.

"Youth group from my church made those."

"Ah. Interesting."

They distributed the cones over the tree and Tim grabbed the next box. The ornaments within were wooden, obviously hand-carved, but did not look very old.

"Gibbs sent those."

Tim blushed, touched by the gesture. "I'll have to remember to thank him tomorrow."

Each new box revealed a slightly different style of ornament, but all appeared to be of the old-fashioned, hand made type. Tim wondered how Abby had managed to find such a variety. When he asked, she just smirked and said, "You'd be amazed what you can find if you're willing to shop outside of the internet."

"I'll keep that in mind…"

It took nearly two hours but finally they had the tree decorated to Abby's satisfaction. They stood back to admire the sight and Tim had to admit that the tree, adorned with wooden, tatted, and decorated pine cone ornaments, looked really nice and did fit in well with the age of the house.

"Thanks again, Abbs. I really appreciate all this."

"Oh, I'm not done yet. There's still a lot left to decorate." She disappeared out the front door and soon returned with yet another box. Tim wondered how she had managed to load all of it by herself as she opened the box and started to pull out several battery powered candles.

"What are those for?"

"They'll go in the windows. They have built in light sensors and timers, so when it gets dark they turn on and stay on for eight hours. You never have to worry about turning them on or off, and the batteries will last all season."

"Convenient. What about he rest of the stuff?"

"I have artificial greenery and pillar candles, also battery powered, for the mantles, plus more roping for the stair railing and doorways."

"Don't you think it's a bit much?"

"Nope. Trust me, it will look just right. Or are you doubting my skills, Timmy?"

"Not doubting, but…Abby, this must have cost a fortune. You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"I told you, no trouble. Besides, I haven't been able to help decorate a whole house since…for a long time."

Tim winced, realizing that Abby was trying to reclaim at least one good memory from her childhood. "Sorry."

"It's OK. Now let's get to work."

Several hours later the house had been transformed, and Tim was finally starting to get into the holiday spirit. He even started thinking about inviting the team down so they could appreciate Abby's handiwork.

The last room they worked on was the upstairs guest room. Abby had been a bit apprehensive about going in there, but once she stepped inside and realized that it was no longer 'creepy', she happily went about her task…but not before questioning Tim about it.

"It feels different in here, you know. What did you do?"

"Well, it was actually really simple. I just asked the other residents to behave themselves." He allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up slightly after he made that statement and Abby gave him a light smack on the arm.

"Very funny, Timmy."

"I told you Abbs, nothing to worry about. Everything is fine."

"Promise?"

He gave her a hug. "I promise."

After they finished Tim went to retrieve Maddie, who eyed the tree with suspicion and barked at it a few times before finally settling down next to Tim's favorite chair. He turned off the lights in the room and he and Abby sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the soft glow from the tree's lights. Finally hunger broke their reverie and they decided to head to the closest large town for dinner.

During the meal Tim mentioned that it would be nice if everyone could see the great job Abby had done, and soon they were planning a holiday potluck. Tim was surprised that he wasn't quite as nervous anymore about guests, and surmised that he was just getting used to having a place where friends could gather. It was a good feeling, he decided, and silently thanked his great-aunt for giving him that option.

XXX

Tim mentioned the party idea to his team the next day, and Palmer suggested having a cookie-baking party, too, with each person bringing their favorite holiday cookie recipe to make. Tim was surprised that everyone, including Gibbs, agreed, and the Saturday before Christmas was set for the event, since they were surprisingly not on call that weekend.

Tim had decided on some simple recipes for the main dishes he prepared, which included two types of barbecue cooked in crockpots: chicken and pulled pork. He had bought some good small sandwich buns from his favorite bakery in D.C. and made some traditional coleslaw to top the sandwiches, so the meal would be ready to assemble when they were done baking for the day. He bought beer and soda, which he put in the cooler on the back porch, red and white wine to have with dinner, and he also purchased eggnog and the ingredients for the homemade hot chocolate recipe his mother had given him, along with whipped cream for the hot chocolate and bourbon for the eggnog.

By noon all of his guests had arrived and after Abby had given them a tour so they could see the decorations they were soon busy working on their cookies. Since Abby had brought traditional sugar cookie dough, cookie cutters, and colored sugar, they all decided that would be a group effort. In the mean time, she helped Jimmy roll out his batch of gingerbread dough, which they then cut into gingerbread men and women, and decorated with icing after they were baked and cooled.

Tony made cranberry pistachio biscotti, and after it was sliced and in the oven for the second round of baking, he wandered over to Jimmy and Abby's station to see what they were snickering about. He looked at the first batch of decorated men and first a puzzled, then an amused look crossed his face.

"Some fancy dudes ya have there, Abbs. I thought bowties were traditional. These guys are wearing suits." That produced a fit of giggles from Abby and Ducky abandoned his final batch of shortbread for a moment to see what was so funny. He stared at the cookies, which each bore two diagonal lines reaching from the shoulders to the center of the chest, and a third line extending down from where the other two lines met. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat as he realized what he was seeing.

"I'm afraid those are not suit lines, Anthony." Tony took a closer look and groaned.

"That's sick, guys, really. Who wants to eat an autopsied gingerbread man?"

With an evil grin, Abby picked one up and took a bite. Tony groaned again and retreated to the other side of the kitchen where Ziva was finishing her batch of rugelach and Tim was planting an upside-down Hershey's kiss in the center of each of the peanut butter cookies he had made.

"Need any help?"

Tim shook his head. "I'm good. Why don't you go help Breena?"

"OK."

Tony moved to Breena's section of the counter where she was pressing out spritz cookie dough into Christmas tree shapes. She pointed to a plastic canister of red and green nonpareils. "Give each cookie a sprinkle of those, and they'll be ready to go in the oven when the whole sheet is covered."

"Got it." Tony decorated the traditional butter cookies with the small sugar decorations until the timer buzzed indicating his biscotti were done. He took the pan out of the oven and moved the cookies onto a rack to cook before pouring some white melting chocolate into a glass bowl. He then microwaved and stirred the contents until it was smooth and ready for dipping.

Tim finished transferring his cookies to a rack to cool and walked over to Tony. "Need any help?"

"Yeah, you can decorate. Breena, are you done with those?" He pointed to the can of nonpareils.

"Help yourself."

Tony gave the can to Tim and after he had dipped the bottom and half of the top and sides of each cookie he put them on a tray lines with wax paper. Tim immediately understood what he wanted and sprinkled the decorations over the cooling chocolate. After they had finished, Tim went to check on Gibbs' progress with his Cowboy Cookies – oatmeal with dried cranberries instead of raisins, nuts, and white chocolate chips. The lead agent was transferring his last batch from the cookie sheet to a cooling rack, a rather wistful look on his face.

"Everything OK, Boss?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He chuckled. "It's been awhile since I've done this. Forgot it could be fun. Thanks."

"No problem. Thank you for joining us." Gibbs nodded and carried his cookie sheet to the sink to wash.

After the rest of the cookies were done and the cookie sheets were clean they started on the sugar cookies. Jimmy rolled the dough to an impressive paper-thinness, then Abby and Breena used the assortment of cutters to cut the dough into seasonal shapes. After the cookies were transferred to a cookie sheet, Tim carried them to the table where the rest of the team used the rainbow of colored sugars to decorate them. Tony and Ziva argued about how much sugar was necessary until Gibbs gave them both a head-slap and Abby abandoned her post to give them a quick demo.

"If you put too much on, it just becomes caramel and looks awful. Not enough and it's boring. It should just cover the dough in a single layer. OK?"

"Thanks, Abbs," Gibbs replied and treated the two members of his team to one of his classic glares, which caused them both to grin sheepishly and return to their task. When they had the first two sheets done, Tim carried them to the oven and waited, since Abby had informed him that he had to keep a close eye on the cookies so they wouldn't burn. Ducky took over the task of transporting cookies while Tim watched, and when they reached the described exact shade of light tan, he took the trays out and transferred the cookies to a cooling rack.

"That's perfect, Timmy."

"Thanks, Abbs."

Several hours later they had used up the last of the dough and the final batch of cookies was in the oven. The team cleaned up while Tim took care of getting the last two sheets out of the oven and then started to prepare the dishes they had brought for dinner. Tim shredded the chicken in its barbecue sauce, then pulled the pork roast out, drained it, shredded it, and added a different sauce before turning the crock pot up to high to heat it through while he went to set the dining room table.

Gibbs built a fire in the cooking hearth for the steaks he had brought, and Abby decided to use the hearth as well to re-heat her cast-iron pot of gumbo. Tony opted to use the oven to heat up his cheese manicotti with marinara sauce and Jimmy added his macaroni and cheese casserole to the second oven shelf before Tony closed the door. Ducky used the stove to get his non-alcoholic wassail heating and Abby set pot of rice on the stove to cook as well.

Breena cut the top off of the round loaf of pumpernickel bread she had brought and then pulled out the center of the bread to make a bowl for her spinach dip. The lid and interior of the bread bowl were torn into pieces to use as dippers, and she also arranged an assortment of raw vegetables around the plate as additional dippers. Ziva gave the tabboulah and marinated vegetables she had brought each a quick stir before going into the dining room and helping Tim finish setting the table.

Finally everything was done and they all filled their plates with food and mugs with wassail before gathering around the large table. When they were all seated, ducky tapped his wine glass and they all turned their attention to him. He raised his glass. "May I present at traditional Scottish toast:

_May there always be work for your hands to do.  
May your purse always hold a coin or two.  
May the sun always shine upon your window pane.  
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.  
May the hand of a friend always be near to you and  
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you."_

"Hear, hear!" called Tony and the rest raised their glasses in agreement. Soon the clink of silverware against plates filled the silence as they all began to enjoy their meal.

"This barbecue pork is good, Tim," Abby commented after she had taken the first bite of her sandwich.

"Yeah, it is. What did you put in it?"

Tim smirked. "Don't think you'd believe me if I told you, Tony."

"Aw, come on, just tell me."

"Root beer."

Tony stopped mid-chew and stared at him incredulously before finishing his mouthful. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Found the recipe and tried it once before." Tim grinned. "Surprised me, too."

"Huh." Tony took another bite and paused as if he was trying to detect the flavor. "It's good, though."

"Thanks."

The conversation throughout dinner was light, mostly centered on complimenting each other on their contributions to the spread. When everyone's plates were empty, Ducky brought out the _cranachan_ he had made and they all enjoyed the traditional Scottish dessert. Tim whipped up a batch of the hot chocolate and offered it to everyone along with the eggnog.

After clearing the table and storing the leftovers, they all retired to the living room where Tim had logs ready for a fire in the fireplace. They enjoyed their eggnog and hot chocolate in relative silence gazing at the tree and listing to the crackle of the logs in the fireplace.

Tim had almost dozed off when Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Thank you." Tim raised an eyebrow and Gibbs chuckled. "Thank you for letting us share your home today."

The rest of the group murmured in agreement and Tim smiled, warmed by more than just the fire.

"My pleasure."

XXX

Monday morning Tim awoke with a start, surprised that his alarm hadn't already pulled him from his slumber. He rolled over and checked the clock and grumbled when he saw the numbers blinking again. The weather forecast had called for a storm the night before, with high winds and snow accumulations ranging from three to four inches, something Tim wasn't looking forward to driving in. He rolled out of bed and went to the window where he stared in shock. The snow was still coming down heavily, and it looked like the accumulation estimates were quite wrong, based on how much was covered outside. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and hit the first number on speed dial.

"_Yeah, Gibbs."_ He sounded as if he had just woken up, too.

"Boss, it's McGee. I'm going to be a bit late to work-"

"_You and everyone else, Tim. City's at a stand still, only essential employees reporting. If we get a call-out, I'll call you. Otherwise, get here when you can. And McGee?"_

"Yes, Boss?"

"_Be careful."_

"I will."

Tim got dressed and went downstairs to take care of Maddie and to get a better idea of the snow depth. When he opened the door he saw that the walkway between the house and garage was covered with snow that had blown across it, and the drifts at the side of the house were almost up to the windows."

"Three to four inches, my ass," he muttered. Maddie took one look at the snow and turned to run back inside but he gave a sharp tug on her leash and she stopped, giving him a decidedly disgusted look. She stepped off the walkway and sunk up to her chest in snow which caused her to yip in surprise. Tim bit back a laugh and waded out after her. It wasn't long before she was ready to head back inside.

Tim returned her to her crate, brushing off as much snow as he could before letting her inside, and went back out to the garage to retrieve the snow shovel he had bought the day before, just in case. He cleared the walkway—only to have it covered up again a short time later—and muttered a few choice phrases as he cleared a space around the garage door and driveway big enough for him to turn his car around. By the time he was done the snow had covered the cleared space again, and Tim was really wishing he had bought that snowblower that had caught his eye at the hardware store.

The rumble of a large engine caught his attention and he turned to see headlights piercing the gloom created by the early morning darkness and blowing snow. Soon the vehicle was close enough that Tim could see it was a Bobcat with a plow blade in front and Rufus at the controls. The mound of snow in front of the blade was pushed to the edge of the driveway and the vehicle stopped before Rufus climbed out of the cab and walked over to Tim.

"How ye likin' this weather?" the old man asked with a wicked grin on his face.

"I'm not."

"Yeah, well, this ain't normal fer down here. It'll pass. I'll get yer drive cleared fer ye, but the roads are bad still. Ye might want ta wait awhile 'til the county gits theys act t'gether."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for dealing with the driveway for me. I wasn't looking forward to that."

"I guess not. Ye have a plow fer yer tractor that will work next time. Shoulda got it hooked up for ye before, but this weather were a surprise."

"Looks like it."

"Best git inside. Ye look 'bout half froze."

"OK. Thanks again."

"No problem." Rufus climbed back into the cab of the Bobcat and started to clear the now that had fallen since Tim had cleared the area. Tim watched for a moment but decided it was too cold to stand and gawk so he went back inside to get ready for work.

Tim spent more time in the shower than intended, trying to get warm again, and it was already well past his normal departure time when he finally pulled his car out of the garage. The drive to Mikela's wasn't too bad, and after dropping Maddie off he started towards D.C.

Three hours later he stumbled into the bullpen, only to find most of the regulars missing. Gibbs was there, sipping his coffee, and he looked up at Tim in surprise.

"Bad drive in?"

Tim collapsed into his chair. "Boss, you have _no_ idea…"

XXX

While the team had been on-call for Christmas, they didn't get a case, so Tim had been able to enjoy at least a few hours of the holiday with Sarah and Penny. The next day they _had_ gotten a call, and the case kept the team occupied until New Year's Eve.

Uninterested in joining the drunken revelers at any of the local clubs Tim, after wishing his teammates a happy New Year, headed home. He kept a wary eye out for impaired drivers and made it to the house unscathed. After tending to his faithful companion, he heated up his dinner and ate at the kitchen counter before retiring to the living room with a glass of wine in his hand and Maddie at his heels. He touched a match to the kindling already stacked in the fireplace and soon the room was aglow with warm light from the hearth. He eased into his chair and raised the footrest, happy to be able to finally relax after a long and tiring week.

As he watched the flames dance, he heard the tinkle of one of the ornaments dropping from the tree, helped along, no doubt, by some unseen hand.

"Stop that," he muttered, and the sound of the ornament rolling along the floor ceased.

Tim smiled and shook his head. A year ago, being where he currently was hadn't even crossed his mind. And now, after living here, with all its ups and downs, he wondered what would his life had been like if Cassandra hadn't given him this house…his home. A home he had shared with his team, which now seemed even more like a family. His life, while certainly never experiencing a dull moment, had changed so much for the better because of it.

As the clock ticked toward midnight, he wondered what the next year would bring. One thing was certain: it would all be worth it. The truth in the old idiom he had heard so many times was finally understood.

_Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home._

_THE END_

* * *

Once again, special thanks to **thecookiemomma** for her help with this story. Also thanks to the readers and reviewers for your kind comments.


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